Expectations
by sintraline
Summary: Ichigo and Grimmjow's first meeting is ordinary enough, but appearances can be deceiving... both are hiding dark secrets, and dangerous occupations. One's a criminal contractor, the other an elite arms trafficker - and when the two unknowingly cross paths in the criminal underworld, death and betrayal await. Grimmichi AU
1. First Meeting

**Warnings - M for violence/strong language. A little OOC - Ichigo is...more cheerful? And less of a pushover. Grimmjow is a tiny bit more mellowed out.**

**Disclaimer - I don't own Bleach. Kubo Tite owns both the franchise and the image I'm using for the thumbnail.**

******Please help me out with some reviews/feedback!**

**Enjoy! **

* * *

"Hey handsome, need some help with that?" Grimmjow turned in bewilderment, certain that no one else was in the shop. So the clerk with the flaming orange hair was definitely talking to him, then.

"Help with what, carrying a gallon of milk?" he asked incredulously, easily lifting a jug and placing it into his cart. "You're not retarded or something, are you?"

The clerk scowled, crossing his arms before suddenly leaning in with a mischievous grin. "It's a service we offer, for the old-lady types. Thought I'd ask just in case, you know? Wouldn't want you to strain a muscle or something…" He lightly trailed a finger suggestively up Grimmjow's upper arm, sending a shiver down the taller man's spine.

Grimmjow quirked an eyebrow before beginning a long and pointed sweep up and down the other man's body. The shop clerk was wearing the same uniform he'd seen a dozen or more times on other employees, but damned if he didn't look like a freakin' magazine ad. The plain black polo was modest enough, but the collar was unbuttoned to one or two notches below workplace standards and revealed an enticing span of perfectly tanned skin stretched over what had to be the finest set of collarbones he'd ever seen. Grimmjow had never thought of _collarbones_ as sexy before, but there weren't many other words that did this pair justice.

The rest of the man didn't disappoint, either. Well-defined and muscled arms had crossed themselves again over a toned chest and flat abs, which narrowed into lean hips and long, graceful legs. Even the bright-colored hair only added to the sex appeal, falling in spikes and drawing focus towards those amber-brown eyes that were disarmingly deep, with beautiful irises that Grimmjow thought he could stare into for hours on end…eyes that now flashed with slight annoyance. Oops. How long had he been silently standing there, lewd thoughts plastered all over his face?

"Like what you see? Should I spin around, make sure everything's up to your standards? Or can we move on already?" Ichigo had said playfully before realizing that Grimmjow hadn't heard a word he said. His eyes narrowed slightly in irritation. This guy was hot as all hell with his ridiculous biceps and washboard abs, but Ichigo didn't tolerate stupidity. Maybe just a one-night stand or a fling, then. He certainly wasn't going to walk away from this gorgeous specimen just because he was slow at making conversation.

Grimmjow quickly pulled himself together and replied with something he hoped made sense, given the relatively few words he'd managed to pick up from Ichigo's little speech. "Nah, you're good, unless that spinning involves some kind of pole." He emphasized the point with a wink, relieved to see annoyance replaced with genuine amusement as the clerk let out a snicker.

Encouraged by this development, he pushed forward. "Clearly I'm not an 'old lady type', so maybe you had some _other_ services in mind?" Grimmjow realized a little too late the somewhat degrading insinuation he'd made, and frantically tried to recover. "Only after three proper dates, getting to know each other and all that jazz," he ended rather lamely. He hoped he hadn't blown his chance - he kind of wanted to hear that infectious laughter again.

To Grimmjow's delight, Ichigo was more than happy to oblige. The orange-haired man let out another peal of laughter before turning around and striding towards the cashier's register, pulling out a blank scrap of paper and scribbling down his number. Ichigo reassessed the blunette - he was kind of witty, and that _look_ that had fluttered across his face after the failed one-liner was absolutely endearing.

He stepped forward and shoved the slip into the front pocket of the blunette's jeans before turning around and retreating with an airy wave over his shoulder. "That's my number. And my name. You should call me sometime. My shift's over now, so you'll have to find someone else to help with the milk. Thanks for shopping with us!" With those parting words, Ichigo sauntered towards the front door and exited the store, aware of Grimmjow's eyes following him the whole way out the door as he stepped onto the sidewalk.

Hardly waiting a moment after the clerk had left the store, Grimmjow pulled the paper from his pocket and dialed the number. He wasn't going to let this 'Kurosaki Ichigo' slip away so easily.

* * *

Ichigo hadn't made it ten steps before his cell phone began to ring. He pulled it out and glanced at the unknown number with a puzzled look before he connected the dots, a triumphant smile tugging at his lips. It hadn't even been two minutes!

Usually he'd attribute someone calling so soon to desperation, but he didn't think someone as attractive as the guy he'd just picked up would have much trouble getting laid. Either way, he didn't really mind - wasn't like he had anything else to do at the moment. Flipping open the phone, he answered the call with a flirtatious opener. "Miss me already, handsome?"

"What - who do you think is on the line?" A business-like voice answered Ichigo in clipped tones, instantly deflating his mood like a burst balloon. "There's a job for you. Drop's been made at the corner of 3rd and Weston. Client wants everything wrapped up within the week." The caller hung up without waiting for a response, missing Ichigo's disgruntled reply.

"Fuck!" Ichigo swore and kicked a lamppost, although he was careful to hit it with the sole of his shoe to avoid hurting himself. He snapped the phone in half before tossing the pieces into a nearby trash can. Ichigo sighed. His jobs always popped up at the worst of times.

* * *

"…The number you have dialed is currently unavailable. Please leave a message after the tone."

Grimmjow frowned, hanging up before the answering machine started recording. He'd already called once before, with the same result. Had Ichigo given him the wrong number? Maybe their conversation hadn't gone as smoothly as he'd thought. Maybe he had actually screwed things up, but the other man wanted to avoid an awkward confrontation.

Should he run out after him, ask for a second chance? He dismissed the last thought instantly, surprised it'd even flashed across his mind. He might have been smitten upon their first meeting, but Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez wasn't some desperate, clingy teenager. He hadn't known the guy for more than ten minutes, he wasn't going to throw away his dignity for a hot date.

Even if the guy _had_ made his heart skip just a little faster than usual.


	2. Second Call

**A/N** - Changed the spelling of Grimmjow's name. Thanks for the review, Ninie-sanNote! Never let it be said I don't listen.

* * *

Ichigo sighed, easing open the door and slipping inside. It was the first time he'd been home in a week, and he was too tired to even turn on a light before flopping bonelessly onto his couch.

The job hadn't gone well - the situation had unraveled completely before Ichigo even managed to grasp what was going on. Then again, that was what he did - fixed up situations that seemed to be spiraling out of control. He made obscene amounts of money for his work as a private consultant, undoing the mess that other people had gotten themselves into. The most recent case was hardly even a memorable one, compared to the hundreds he'd taken in the past.

Some big-headed company manager had gotten in over his head, made some shady deals with businesses that didn't exactly walk along the right side of the law, then panicked when he realized his company couldn't make good on the promises. That was when he'd hired Ichigo to take over negotiations. Ichigo rolled his eyes. Things would have been much easier if he'd been called sooner, _before_ things got out of control rather than after. He'd had to resort to some rather...unconventional tactics to persuade the pissed off "business" owners to leave the company alone.

But that was precisely why Ichigo could charge such exorbitant sums; he always got the job done, no matter what.

So, things were good. Ichigo didn't have much to stress about in his rather carefree lifestyle, although he was easily bored. Taking cases was always the best way to break the monotony - that, and they paid well. He hadn't thought much about what he was going to _do_ with all the money, but he calculated that he'd already saved up enough for an early retirement.

Even so, he worked a side job for his uncle in between his real jobs, if only to stave off the boredom. The store he helped out at sold some pretty interesting stuff - in addition to the normal groceries, it stocked a collection of antiques, novelty items, and (just a couple of) black market goods that were enough to keep the customers interesting.

Speaking of interesting customers…one had walked in just a few days ago, literally _oozing_ of pheromones and was even a little bit funny, to boot. Ichigo remembered the exact instant he'd first placed eyes on the man he simply referred to as 'Handsome', with an accompanying rush of adrenaline and a faint buzz along his skin that he usually only associated with the thrill of a case. He hadn't seen him for a while, though.

At this thought, Ichigo bolted upright, fatigue forgotten as he remembered their last exchange. He'd told the guy to call him! Where was his phone? He thought he'd had it on him when he last left home, but he never took it with him on jobs, so…he flicked his eyes toward the wall outlet. Of course, the iPhone was sitting right where he'd left it, plugged into the wall "charging" for the past week.

Sliding quickly off the couch, Ichigo scooted towards the phone, anxiously typing in a password and disabling the phone's lock screen. With a growing sense of anticipation, he opened up the call log and noted the 5 missed calls he'd received. Three of them were from Urahara asking why he'd ditched his last 4 shifts…those were immediately dismissed and deleted. His uncle would never fire him, and knew better than to ask about his main career choice. It was only strange that he still insisted on calling every time Ichigo skipped work, even though it happened on a near-monthly basis.

The last two calls listed were both from an unknown number - timestamped about a minute after he'd gotten the call from Ishida about the new client. Ichigo grinned. So he'd been right - the blue-haired man _had_ called almost as soon as he left the store. Ichigo had just answered the wrong phone. Glancing over at the clock on the wall, he smirked and called the number back.

* * *

Grimmjow groaned as he rolled over, blearily sitting up as he searched for the nuisance of a phone that had woken him up. Snatching the thing off his nightstand, he frowned at the unknown number before jabbing at a button and rejecting the call. Throwing the phone back on the table, he hadn't even managed to fall back onto his pillow before his goddamned phone started buzzing again.

Snarling at the rotten piece of technology, he was tempted for a second to throw it against the wall, figuring that watching it shatter into a thousand pieces would surely be more satisfying than talking to whoever was on the line. Sighing, he reached towards the phone again, curbing his instinct to smash several hundreds of dollars into e-waste. "_What do you want!_" he growled, expecting nothing more than a wrong number or drunken idiot.

A barely repressed chuckle on the other end suddenly caught Grimmjow's attention - he'd heard that sound somewhere before - until a teasing voice confirmed his suspicions. "Is that how you always answer the phone, Handsome? Maybe I should call back later…"

"Damn you, Kurosaki Ichigo! Don't you dare wake me up at - " Grimmjow glanced at the clock on the table " - four _fucking _thirty in the morning and then hang up, yeah?" He noted with a little surprise that he'd been able to connect the name and the voice so quickly. He'd always been terrible at names, but this guy had gotten under his skin. "And what's with that lameass nickname? Not very creative, are we?"

"What should I call you instead, 'Sexy Bastard'? I don't _know_ your name yet, unless you want me to just make one up." Ichigo snickered, mentally shuffling through a few choice names. "I'm not going to waste precious brain cells when I can just use your real name instead," he pointed out.

Grimmjow huffed. "Cheh. Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez."

"Mm…Grimmmjoww…" Ichigo rolled the name over his tongue, savoring both the exotic mix of consonants and the slight intake of breath he heard over the phone. "That's a nice name. You like it when I say it like that, _Grimmjow_?"

Grimmjow very truthfully _did_ enjoy the sound of his name when it was being practically _purred_ in Ichigo's smooth, silky voice. But he was still more than a little miffed that he'd been ignored for so long. "So what's gotten into ya, calling me up in the middle of the night after completely ignoring me for the last week and a half? Thought ya'd chickened out and given me a fake number."

"I'd never lie," Ichigo drawled, "Some things just came up that I had to…deal with. Only been back for fifteen minutes when I called you up. And it's not like I stood you up or anything, we'd just met! …So, where were we? Oh that's right, you were gonna ask me on a date. I'm free tomorrow - well, technically today - at 7 pm, you can meet me at the store."

"Wha - stop that, what if I'm busy? Don't go making this shit up all on your own, and who says I even want a date!" Grimmjow knew it was a halfhearted protest, but he couldn't just let the guy dance all over him.

"Well, _are_ you busy? And you would've hung up on some platonic stranger a _long_ time ago, so don't give me that crap." Ichigo snorted.

"Well…no. I'm not busy. Seeya then." Click. Grimmjow cut off the call abruptly, surly from the lack of sleep and unwilling to let Ichigo dominate the conversation any longer. It was apparently hard enough to stop himself from saying anything stupid when he was wide awake; he didn't need his sleep-deprived brain to ruin the date he'd somehow managed to stumble into. Then again, he was pretty sure he'd had little to no say in the arrangement, but he wasn't going to bitch when it was exactly what he'd wanted.

Grimmjow rolled over and tumbled back into sleep, dreaming of orange kittens and milk bottles.


	3. Third Date

**A/N**: Disclaimer - I don't own any of the trademarked names. And nothing personal against Planet Earth, I've never even seen any of the series. I just used the first thing that popped into my head. **Read and review! Please!** Seriously, it only takes like 2 seconds to leave a comment, and I'll try to incorporate feedback you guys have. Also, it lets me know people are actually reading, which leads me to write faster :)

Thanks!

Shout out to Ninie-sanNote again for the nice review, definitely an encouragement! But negative reviews are okay too, I'd honestly like to hear your thoughts!

* * *

"That's the last of 'em, boss!" A burly man with a thin black ponytail and beard called over to Grimmjow, as he tossed an AR-15 rifle into a large crate. Grimmjow nodded, giving the sign to seal up the cargo and send off the truck. This shipment was unusually large, so he'd had to personally come out to make sure everything was in place before the delivery was trucked off. There was a lot of money riding on the deal, so the organization wanted to ensure there were no mistakes.

Not that there would be; Grimmjow kept his line operating smoothly and efficiently. There hadn't been any successful federal busts - or even arrests - for years, not since Grimmjow taken over management duties.

He looked at the watch on his wrist. Everything was right on schedule, and he'd have it all wrapped up by 6:15. More than enough time to drive over to that weird little convenience store where Ichigo worked. He shook his head, a little disquieted with how easily he'd agreed to a date with the man. It had seemed like a perfectly good idea to his half-awake brain, but now that he was fully conscious he was having second thoughts.

Not that he didn't like Ichigo; he really did. But he hadn't dated anyone seriously for years - his job made keeping up a relationship difficult. Ordinary people would probably make a run for it if they ever found out what he did for a living, so he mainly settled for casual hookups. Ichigo didn't seem like the sort of person who was up for one-night stands. Grimmjow frankly thought the guy deserved better than that kind of relationship, anyway.

Eh, who was he fuckin' kidding. Things probably wouldn't even get far enough for him to worry about it; Ichigo'd probably dump him after he got to know him better. Lots of people did. Grimmjow knew his abrasive personality wasn't the easiest to live with, but he was who he was. Besides, he still wasn't sure if he even _wanted_ anything more than a casual friends-with-benefits sort of arrangement with Ichigo. The physical attraction was obvious, but relationships were complicated and far too draining for Grimmjow's tastes.

* * *

Ichigo didn't know why he was feeling so antsy. He tried to concentrate on the TV, but couldn't stop himself from glancing at the wall clock every few minutes. What was he so worked up about? It was just a date. Yeah, the guy was _really hot,_ but he'd been out with attractive men before.

Maybe it was just this uniquely bad documentary he was sitting through. He wouldn't have thought hurricanes could be so boring, but somehow this _Planet Earth_ series had managed to do it.

Ichigo's fingers drummed impatiently against his leg as he turned his attention back towards the screen. He finally gave up when he caught himself absentmindedly staring at the clock for the 7th time.

There was still more than an hour left before they were supposed to meet up. He could probably start getting ready now if he took his time - a long shower, a nice change of clothes, a really _slow_ walk towards the shop. Ichigo sighed, turning off the TV. He felt this inexplicable mixture of…frustration, boredom, anticipation? Like he was stuck inside on a beautiful day.

He shook his head, trying to shake off the gloom. It was probably because the documentary'd sucked so much.

* * *

"So what's the plan for tonight?" Grimmjow asked, finding Ichigo easily in the crowd.

"I don't know, weren't you supposed to think of something?" They stared dumbly at each other for a second before both relaxed into easy smiles. "Well, I guess we can think of something. Have you eaten yet?" Ichigo pointed at a Chinese restaurant across the street. "I know the owners there, and the food's really good."

Grimmjow was actually getting pretty hungry, so he readily agreed. "Nice jeans, I have to say they're a step up from the uniform," he said. Ichigo had changed out the work khakis for a much tighter-fitting set of dark jeans, and Grimmjow was appreciating the view. The black polo had also been replaced for a dark blue, long-sleeved V-neck.

Grimmjow openly let his eyes run over the length of Ichigo's lithe frame, giving the man a teasing look. "Can I still take you up on that offer to spin around for me?" he joked before casually throwing an arm over Ichigo's shoulder. He waited a beat to gauge the orange hair's reaction.

Ichigo didn't seem to mind the overly familiar contact, stepping in even closer as a biker zipped by on his other side. Wrapping his own arm around Grimmjow's waist, he looked upward at the taller man with a smile. "You're looking pretty good yourself," he said truthfully.

Grimmjow was wearing a plain white shirt that was loose at the collar but tightened at the waist, showing off his perfectly sculpted torso. A simple pair of jeans and heavy construction boots completed the ensemble. Clearly, this man didn't need any designer clothes to show off his looks. "That's my favorite color, you know."

"What, white?" Grimmjow looked down at his own shirt before looking skeptically in Ichigo's direction. "Not a very interesting color, is it?" he said doubtfully.

Ichigo laughed, the noise accompanied by a now familiar sensation in Grimmjow's gut. Damn, he just couldn't get enough of that sound. "No, I meant this," he said, reaching his hand up to ruffle at Grimmjow's wonderfully messy hair.

It was Grimmjow's turn to laugh. "Thanks, I guess. Didn't have any choice in the matter, but that's life. You got some interesting hair yourself," he added. It usually annoyed him when people drew attention to his hair, but Ichigo had seemed sincere enough with his remark that it didn't irk him in the slightest. And the feeling of those long, slender fingers skimming through his hair was definitely a plus.

Somehow, they'd reached the restaurant already. Grimmjow dropped his arm from Ichigo's shoulder and stepped forward to pull open the door, letting Ichigo inside first. He frowned a little, missing the warmth beside him, before seeing Ichigo's smile of delight as he entered the building and the scent of Asian cuisine washed over them. Smiling a little himself now, Grimmjow followed behind his date and was about to put his arm back around Ichigo before the host saw them. Uttering an excited exclamation, she stepped forward and ushered the two immediately towards a booth, past the rest of the disgruntled crowd.

* * *

Ichigo was having a great time, despite his earlier mood. In his experience, attractiveness and personality usually had an inverse relationship - the better looking they were, the more demanding and churlish they got. He'd had his share of bad dates in the past - assholes who tried to push him around or take advantage of him, just because he'd been the one to make the first move.

Ichigo had sent them packing. He wasn't easy or any less deserving of respect just because he liked sex, and wasn't afraid to go after it. And just because he'd asked someone out first didn't mean he was desperate, just bored. He'd discovered that if he didn't take the initiative, people would take _forever_ to get to the point, pussyfooting around the subject like they were at a middle school dance. Ichigo just didn't have the patience for it.

Grimmjow seemed like the type who was quick to make a move and didn't like to dance much.

He had this easy air about him - breezy and lighthearted most of the time, but quick to excite. He could be perfectly serene one moment and snarling the next. His facial expressions were a thing of beauty, Ichigo decided. Eyes that were transparently clear and revealed a whole range of inner emotions, a mouth that twitched down into a scowl or curled up into a smile instantly, chin jutting out in a flash at the first hint of a challenge.

They were subtle changes, to be sure, but Ichigo made a living off observing others - reading their body language, their thoughts, their hidden intentions - and using it to his advantage. He didn't have any ulterior motives here, though. And neither did Grimmjow, he was sure. He hadn't seen anyone who was this much of an open book since - well, since _ever_.

He was surprised to admit that he really enjoyed the change of pace. He wasn't used to dealing with such honesty in his line of work.

* * *

"So, what do you do for a living?"

The question caught Grimmjow off guard, snapping him back from his thoughts. He'd hoped that he wouldn't have to deal with the question so soon, but he supposed it was probably a standard first-date question. He hesitated, unsure how to respond.

He didn't exactly want to lie, but there was also no way he could just tell Ichigo the truth. His didn't even have any sort of cover story to go with. He was sure his organization operated using some sort of front, but he wasn't involved in that half of the business.

Did it really matter if he lied? He didn't know why he was so hung up on this; what did it matter if he spun out a false identity? It wasn't as if he owed Ichigo the truth, he barely even knew him.

"That's none of your business." He snapped, words falling from his mouth before he'd fully realized what he was saying. He winced a little internally; he certainly didn't plan to tell the truth, but he hadn't wanted to sound so harsh, either. _Too late now, _he thought. Jerking up his head, he looked at Ichigo defiantly, fully expecting some sort of retaliation.

"Heh. All right, no need to get pissy. Just thought it'd be another thing for conversation, we don't gotta talk about it if you don't want." Grimmjow blinked in surprise at the nonchalant response, eyeing Ichigo warily as the other man turned casually back to his food.

Was that normal? Did people who were dating usually not care what the other person was up to? Not that they were dating or anything, he was quick to point out to himself. It was a _good _thing Ichigo didn't seem to care, so he should just take it and be grateful.

Time to change the subject. "So why are we getting such special treatment? The employees here have practically been falling over themselves to serve us and we skipped that huge-ass line," he said, waving at a beaming waiter who immediately rushed in to refill their cups.

"Oh, I did them a little favor a while back. Ended up saving them from bankruptcy, I think. The owners are real grateful - and it's family owned, so most of the staff probably feel the same way." Ichigo shrugged. He didn't usually stay in touch with clients after the fact, but he wasn't one to turn down free food when it was so conveniently located.

"Shit, that sounds like a good story - you can't just stop at 'saved them from bankruptcy'," Grimmjow prodded. Their conversation was cut off as the waiter approached them again, leaving a receipt and some orange slices. "I'll pay for that," he offered as he reached for the receipt. He was pretty well off, and didn't think that the wages of a convenience store clerk interacted comfortably with the menu prices at an upper class restaurant. Besides, he'd genuinely enjoyed Ichigo's company and didn't mind footing the bill for time well spent.

Ichigo glanced at the receipt before handing it over with a smirk and said, "Just this once. Next time is on me, all right?" He didn't like it when other people paid for him. It wasn't as if he was short on cash, and he didn't like feeling beholden to anyone, certainly not over something as insignificant as a restaurant bill.

Grimmjow grunted in assent, figuring that he'd just make sure "next time" didn't cost very much. He knew it was probably an issue of pride more than anything, so there really wasn't much point arguing over it. Reaching for his wallet, he glanced at the receipt, eyebrows arching up in surprise.

"_Thank you for visiting, please have a nice day!_" was all the sheet of paper said. He looked at Ichigo in mock outrage. "You fucking tricked me! Making me agree to let you pay for next time." Ichigo sat back, a smug look on his face.

"You can buy the movie tickets, then." Ichigo replied smoothly. "I think the new James Bond is in theaters, wanna go see it?"

Grimmjow had been looking forward to the movie for quite a while now, and he was eager to spend more time with Ichigo, so it didn't take much persuading. As they walked together towards the door, he was about to swing his arm back over Ichigo's shoulders when the other man suddenly pushed his hand into Grimmjow's, threading their fingers together.

Grimmjow was a little disconcerted; he was pretty sure he hadn't held hands with someone since high school. It had always seemed strangely intimate, and it'd been a long time since he was in one of those relationships. After a moment of reflection, he decided it wasn't so bad after all.

* * *

Ichigo glowered at the signs plastered over the movie theater booth. SOLD OUT, they loudly proclaimed, big red stickers covering up the movie posting.

"Well, that's what we get for not planning ahead," Grimmjow muttered beside him. "Watch something else instead?" He wasn't happy at the compromise, but figured it'd be a shame to cut short the evening on a negative note. "Looks like the only other thing playing at this time is…huh. _Planet Earth 2: Amazing Glaciers_." He cringed a little. It wasn't really something he was interested in, but he'd suffered through worse before for not much reward at all. At least he'd be watching it with Ichigo.

The person in question groaned. "You've got to be kidding me," Ichigo said in exasperation. Another _Planet Earth_ documentary, really? Someone up there had it out for him.

From the looks of it, Grimmjow didn't look too pleased, either. He'd tried to hide it, but there was a slight strain to the smile and the inner corners of his eyebrows were tugged downwards. Ichigo grinned. It was kind of sweet that he was willing to sit through this for the sake of the date.

"Okay. Let's sit in the back. That way we can pretend to watch the movie while making out like teenagers." Laughing at how quickly Grimmjow's expression reversed itself, Ichigo walked towards the booth with a slight spring in his step.

* * *

He had to hand it to Ichigo, the guy really hadn't been lying. Grimmjow wasn't sure at first if Ichigo had been joking, and the two sat in silence as the movie previews rolled on screen. But as soon as the first panorama shot of the glacier had appeared, Ichigo had pushed up the armrest between them and hooked his arms around Grimmjow's neck with a flirtatious smile.

Grimmjow stole a glance around the nearly empty theater. He didn't really mind if people were watching them, but he hoped they wouldn't be interrupted by any overly fussy moviegoers. A puff of warm air drew his attention back to focus on the face poised only inches away from his, and he took the invitation with no further hesitation.

Ichigo had to bite back a quiet moan as Grimmjow's lips closed over his own and a pair of firm hands ran themselves down his sides, wrapping themselves around his waist and pulling him firmly towards Grimmjow's body. He hesitated only a second before giving in, breaking off the kiss to re-seat himself completely on Grimmjow's lap. Tongues clashed as their mouths melded together again, and the brief thought that he was glad they hadn't gone to see Skyfall after all flickered across Ichigo's mind before Grimmjow pushed forwards, breaking off any coherent thought for the next few minutes.

They finally broke apart when some professor with a booming voice filled up the screen, startling them out of their fervor. Ichigo rested his forehead on Grimmjow's, panting lightly as he looked into Grimmjow's eyes. They were half-lidded with a fiery look of desire and arousal that echoed Ichigo's sentiments perfectly.

Something poked at his thigh from where he sat on Grimmjow's lap, and his partner thrust his hips up, as if to confirm his suspicions. "Oops," he giggled as he slid back into his own seat, ignoring his date's growl of disapproval. Grimmjow reached forward again, only to find himself rebuffed. He sat back in confusion before fixing a glare on the still grinning Ichigo.

"I like you, but this is a _movie theater_, not a motel. And it's the only one in town, so I'll _kill_ you if you get us banned from it," Ichigo explained in hushed tones as he pretended to shoot a stern look at the man sitting next to him. Grimmjow was silent and still had a stormy expression on his face, but made no move to pull Ichigo back. Ichigo smiled as he ran a hand through Grimmjow's blue tresses, leaning up to whisper in his ear. "Hmm...let's count. Once at the store. Two, a nice dinner. And now we're at the movies."

Grimmjow scowled again. "The fuck is that supposed ta mean?" He wasn't in the mood to deal with some kind of cryptic message, not when his mind was still concerned with other, more important, matters.

"That's three dates, technically. So let's get down to those _other_ services then, yeah?" Ichigo teased, lightly referencing the one-liner Grimmjow had pitched when they first met. "My place or yours?"

The blue-haired man's jaw dropped slightly before he sharply stood up, tugging Ichigo out of his chair as well. The two quickly made their way to the exit, abandoning the glaciers to themselves in the fight against global warming.


	4. Murder at the Warehouse

Ichigo stretched luxuriously, nestling himself further into a nest of pillows. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so deliciously _used, _to the point that every muscle in his body trembled in delight and desire.

Four times. They'd done it _four times_! Ichigo giggled a little to himself. The sheer _lust_ had been absolutely ridiculous. He hadn't been able to think straight, talk straight, hell even _walk _straight by the time they'd gotten into Ichigo's apartment. They hadn't even made it to the bed the first two times, for god's sake.

There was just something different about letting yourself go completely while in the presence of someone who was almost a complete stranger. It was a total adrenaline rush, that feeling of running your hands over an entirely foreign and unfamiliar body for the first time, learning all their habits and turn-ons, each one a new and enticing surprise.

A rustle on the other side of the bed interrupted his musings, and Ichigo rolled over lazily to watch as Grimmjow slowly extracted himself from the tangle of bedsheets and walked around the room, leisurely gathering up articles of clothing that had been strewn about the room. _Absolutely gorgeous_, Ichigo thought to himself as he unabashedly watched Grimmjow's trip around the room, muscles rippling as he tugged his pants back on.

Grimmjow did his best to ignore Ichigo's hungry gaze as he focused on zipping his jeans back up. If he turned around and saw that rumpled just-after-sex hair, those lust-filled eyes…he shook his head violently, attempting to dislodge the exact sort of thoughts he'd been trying to avoid. If he made eye contact, he'd probably end up jumping the guy again - or at least trying to. Grimmjow wasn't sure if he was up for yet another round tonight, and he wasn't about to risk it. Besides, he had an early day tomorrow and wanted to sleep at least a couple of hours before heading to work.

"Leaving in the middle of the night? Not planning a dine and dash or something, are ya?" Ichigo said only half-jokingly. He'd had plenty of flings, and enjoyed the hell out of them, but Ichigo felt an inexplicable draw towards Grimmjow, to keep him around. _At least try not to embarrass yourself by asking him to stay or something equally ridiculous_, he thought, biting at his lip just to make sure nothing accidentally tumbled out. _Don't worry, it's probably just the libido talking, _he told himself.

Grimmjow let out a bark of laughter. "What, and let someone else take you? Not a chance in hell. You're not getting away that easily," he said, finally risking a sideways glance at Ichigo. The orange head's air of concern had lifted, replaced with the usual playful smile.

"I gotta get back though, it's late and I have to get into work early tomorrow." He winced at the last statement, unsure why he'd brought up work again. _This is just asking to get in trouble_, he sighed, resolving to get his organization's full cover story the next time he called in to Central.

Ichigo didn't seem to pick up on his gaffe, and nodded absentmindedly. "Yeah, that's not a bad idea. I have some stuff to take care of tomorrow, too." Ishida had called in with orders from another client, to be picked up in the morning.

Fortunately, the man had the sense to avoid any mention of their last embarrassing exchange, for which Ichigo was grateful. Ishida was one of the worst people he could think of to accidentally call "Handsome," but the man was a genius when it came to collecting and organizing Ichigo's case files. He even did all of the tedious information-gathering and network building, leaving the far more interesting affairs of execution for Ichigo to handle.

Meanwhile, Grimmjow was becoming increasingly frustrated as he combed through the bedroom yet again, searching for his shirt. It wasn't as if it could have gotten lost - the room was fastidiously clean and tidy.

Ichigo snapped out of his thoughts a few moments later as he realized Grimmjow was still searching fruitlessly for his T-shirt. Reaching into a drawer and pulling out a shirt of his own, he shoved it at Grimmjow as he walked past the bed. "Take it," he said. "I'll find yours and give it back next time. Shut up, I'm sure it'll fit just fine. You're not that much bigger than me," he grumbled as he noted Grimmjow's dubious glance.

"Easy there, I was mainly thinking about the color." Pulling on the proffered dark green tee, Grimmjow walked over to check himself out in the bathroom mirror. "Damn, I look good," he whistled. It smelled nice, too. Like Ichigo.

Ichigo snorted. "You always look good, dumbass," realizing too late that he'd actually said those words out loud.

"What was that you just said?" Grimmjow couldn't suppress a cackle when he saw a deep red blush creep across Ichigo's face.

"No-nothing, just ignore that. Weren't you supposed to be leaving already?" Ichigo grumbled as he pushed a still laughing Grimmjow towards the door.

Once he'd seen Grimmjow off, Ichigo let out a contented sigh, leaning against the wall. Amazing sex and a new case? Things just couldn't get any better.

* * *

Grimmjow was in a good mood the next morning. This whole dating thing wasn't so bad after all! He'd expected a lot more boring crap. He also hadn't thought he'd get laid so quickly. Sure, the old movie-and-dinner thing was pretty cliche now that he thought about it, but he'd had a good time just talking and getting to know the dude.

Not to mention the sex was thoroughly mind-blowing. He had to admit, there'd been a moment of doubt as they'd groped and stumbled their way into Ichigo's apartment, only to have the man suddenly break off in the middle of a kiss and begin bombarding him with questions about various STDs.

"What?" Ichigo had said defensively at Grimmjow's expression. "Just making sure, okay? Sex is fine and all but it's hard to do if your dick's fallen off!"

Grimmjow laughed. He had to admit Ichigo had a point, but all the same it was a little bit of a mood killer. He'd gotten over it quickly, though - about as soon as Ichigo had stripped off his shirt and pushed Grimmjow against the wall, plastering their bodies together before picking up where they'd left off.

The workers at the warehouse stared at each other with a combination of apprehension and bafflement. It was probably a mistake, but… they could have _sworn_ they'd just heard their belligerent and intimidating boss walking around the place, humming a tune to himself.

* * *

_You have three new messages._

_Message one: March 23, 9:31 AM_

"Hey Grimmjow, it's Ichigo. Yesterday was fun, we should do it again some time. You can set it up this time, okay? And I want my shirt back, so don't forget it."

_Message two: March 26, 8:07 PM_

"Hey, me again. Just thought I'd check in. Were you late to work or something last time? Sorry if that's the case, but don't hold it against me, okay? Like, it's not really my fault, now is it? You probably should have set an alarm or something. So anyways, it's cool if you're busy or something right now. Just call me and let me know, okay? Or leave a message."

_Message three: April 5, 8:18 PM_

"Hey, fuck you. One-night stands are fine and all, but you don't gotta be an _asshole_ about it. Grow a pair and tell me to my face, don't be some chickenshit liar. Keep the shirt, I don't wanna see your sorry face again. Bastard!"

_No more messages at this time. Press one to replay, two to save, three to -_

Grimmjow sighed, flipping shut his phone before tossing it onto the couch. He sank into the cushions next to it, tiredly running a hand through his hair. _Shit_. The past two weeks had already been a total disaster, and now this was happening. One of the shipments leaving from Warehouse 4 had been intercepted by the cops before reaching its destination, and the organization had gone into emergency mode, notifying all nine of the other branches.

The bust had been too well-timed to be a coincidence; Central suspected an informant from within their own ranks. After just two days, the mole had been weeded out - and summarily executed - before operation had returned to normal.

But before the work day had even ended, Grimmjow received word of another crisis, this time at Warehouse 5. He shook his head at the memory, still somewhat in disbelief.

* * *

The phone on the wall was ringing. Grimmjow frowned - only a select amount of people had the number for it. Calls were rare, and they were seldom ever good news. Leaving his crew to continue loading without him, he jogged over to pick it up. It wasn't really a landline - too easy to wiretap - but for some reason his boss had insisted on making it look like one of those ancient phones with circular dials and separate ear and mouth pieces. Grimmjow scowled, fumbling with the cord before holding up what he hoped was the right end to his ear.

"Warehouse 6 here. What's up?"

A terse voice on the other end confirmed his suspicion. "Trouble. Warehouse 5 - we got confirmation of delivery, but the escort never made it back.

Grimmjow swore. "Police again?"

"No. Warehouse 5 has been rendered unusable - all scheduled shipments from that location are to be redirected to Warehouse 6. You will be expanding operation capacity for an indefinite period of time until we can rebuild Warehouse 5." The man spoke so quickly Grimmjow wasn't sure if he'd heard him right.

"Hang on - what? You want me to _double_ the shipments we're sending out? That's impossible! We might have the infrastructure - _might - _for _half_ of what number 5 was dealing plus ours, but all of it? Not a chance! Send some over to another warehouse!" Grimmjow protested, recoiling at the thought of handling such an impossible flood of illegal arms, drugs, and various black market goods.

"Impossible_," _the caller replied, throwing his words back at him. "The only other geographically suitable port is number 4, and you know what happened there. Can't trust the line as it is, especially not with more volume. Central's already sent out orders, someone will be there to meet with you shortly." The caller hung up the phone before Grimmjow could argue any further, leaving the blue-haired man to stew.

_Fuck_. The entire warehouse had already been on high-alert for the past two days, waiting for number 4 to clean-up house. He hadn't been home since the incident had started, opting instead to doze off in the building's lounge. It wasn't bad, as far as living spaces went - full bath, a closet full of clean clothes - because work schedules were erratic and the organization wanted to ensure its employees were well rested. Still, it just wasn't the same as his own flat, and Grimmjow had been looking forward to a break.

A warm bath, some mind-numbing TV, maybe even a visit to Ichigo... That had all gone to hell as soon as Warehouse 5 had seemingly collapsed on itself.

"Grimmjow!" The man in question turned, mood slightly lifting as he saw a green-haired beauty walking towards him.

He didn't like many of the representatives Central often sent over, but Nel was one of the few he didn't hate - easy on the eyes, and a notorious gossip. If you wanted to learn anything about Central, Nel was the one to talk to. "So you're the one Central sent over, Nel? Please tell me you know what's going on, this shit's insane!"

Nel squirmed apologetically. "Yeah, the rumors flying around are crazy. You've got a lot of work cut out for you. Central is sending a couple of people to move everything from number 5 over here, and I'm supposed to give you this list of times and locations - here -" at this she handed over a black flash drive, "but after that, you're basically on your own."

Grimmjow looked at her in surprise. "Central's the one moving things over? Why not the people in 5?"

"Umm…apparently there's no one left," Nel said hesitantly, as if she didn't believe her own words.

"_WHAT?_ You mean the feds caught _everyone_? They're not sending me _any_ new workers to deal with this? You gotta be shitting me. What's going on, anyway? The guy at Central wouldn't tell me anything." Grimmjow clenched his hands in frustration. He forced himself to relax a little - it wouldn't do to take it out on Nel before she'd even told him anything useful. _Fuck, _he thought for the second time in less than ten minutes.

"Not caught - dead." Nel whispered conspiratorially, relishing the look of astonishment that widened Grimmjow's eyes. This was one of the most interesting stories she'd come across in a long time.

"So here's what I've heard - the escorts never reported back in, so Number 5 waited about half an hour before calling it in. In the middle of the call, this racket breaks out. The operator on our end says she heard screams and what she thought were gunshots with a silencer. Number 5 shouts something - we're not sure what - then drops the phone and rushes off. He doesn't come back. So Central sends a team to check out the situation, obviously. And guess what they found?" She paused for dramatic effect.

Grimmjow rolled his eyes. "Spit it out already, I'm not in the mood for games."

Nel grinned, already used to her coworker's brusque manner. "Everyone was dead. Every single one of them - one of the guys they sent told me the place had blood splattered all over the place. You're going to have to clean off some of the cargo before you can ship it out, unless your customers are okay with rusty goods." She paused at Grimmjow's groan. "But - here's the best part - they weren't killed with a gun. Not a single bullet wound in any of them, so we don't have anything to go off. Guess what it was?"

Grimmjow bit back a rude remark. Nel's constant guessing game was getting on his nerves, but he couldn't help the curiosity. "What was it?"

She leaned in, a strange light glinting in her eyes. Grimmjow unconsciously leaned forward himself, dipping his head lower to hear. The whisper in his ear sent an involuntary shiver through his body.

"_Arrows_."

* * *

Nel had been right, he really did have his work cut out for him - Grimmjow had been forced to scramble together all the temp workers, every local contact he knew in order to compensate for the huge influx of new cargo he had unwillingly taken charge of. It'd taken him more than a week spent living at the warehouse to get things under any semblance of control.

But he'd managed to accomplish the impossible - smoothly integrate the delivery and pick-up schedules of both Warehouses 5 and 6 - in record time. He deserved a goddamned promotion. If they weren't going to give him one, he was at the very least going to take a well-earned vacation.

Grimmjow usually didn't have to show up in person for most of the deliveries, but he'd had no choice for these. He bolted as soon as it looked like Yammy, his subordinate, could handle things himself. The guy was a little slow in the head but exceedingly loyal - and incredibly strong - so Grimmjow didn't feel too worried leaving him in charge. The guy could probably reflect arrows cartoon-style off his preposterously bulging muscles, if it came down to it.

He had pushed out the thought of Ichigo until he'd gotten home and listened to the string of messages. He couldn't really blame the guy for getting pissed off - he remembered feeling the same way a month ago when his own call had gone unreturned for a week. Still, Grimmjow never brought his phone with him to his job - not ever. Work and personal life didn't mix.

Not that he had much of a personal life, he thought darkly to himself. Maybe he'd go down to the bar, pick someone up for a quick fuck? He sighed. He couldn't forget the sight of that lean, tanned body writhing under him, the siren-like voice that had moaned his name as he reached his own climax. And that laughter - Grimmjow just couldn't explain his fixation with it. Should he try calling back? He'd probably get hung up on. Still…Grimmjow picked up the phone from the couch and picked out Ichigo from his contacts list. He owed it to the best sex of his life to at least give it another shot.

* * *

Ichigo looked up from his paperwork in annoyance, striding over to pick up his ringing phone. He noted the display - unknown caller - before accepting the call and holding the phone up to his ear. "Kurosaki Ichigo."

"I know who you are," a familiar voice replied after a brief hesitation. "I didn't think you'd pick up, though."

"Who is thi- _Grimmjow_? What the fuck do you want? And don't get the wrong idea, I only picked up because I'd already deleted your number, asshole. I'm busy. You have fifteen seconds to convince me not to hang up." Ichigo spat, tempted to hang up the phone anyway.

It was only a slight curiosity - and the fact that he hated paperwork - that kept him from doing so. _Or maybe it's because he fucked you senseless and you loved every minute of it_, a small, unbidden voice whispered in the back of his mind. He ignored it.

"I'm sorry I didn't call sooner. I really wasn't planning on a one-night stand, I swear." Grimmjow paused, trying to read the silence on the other end. He took the fact that Ichigo hadn't hung up yet as a good sign.

"Some things just came up that I had to…deal with. Called you as soon as I got back, though." This time he heard a snort on the other end as Ichigo heard his own words mirrored back at him. "Seriously, I haven't even been home for two weeks, and work really sucked. I didn't know or I would've told you beforehand. Forgive me? Won't happen again, I promise."

Ichigo wrestled with himself for a while, torn between resentment and a strange happiness. He would have done the same thing if a job came up, so he couldn't really fault Grimmjow for that. And he had to give the guy credit, he had some balls if he'd decided to call back despite the fuming message Ichigo had left. Someone on a booty call wouldn't have risked it, right? _Sure, go with that reasoning if it makes you feel any better_, the voice in his head from earlier muttered. "Fine, you're forgiven," he huffed after a moment, trying not to sound too cheerful. He didn't want to come off as a pushover. "Just don't make it a habit."

Grimmjow released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Cool," he grinned into the phone. "So what now, I gotta arrange a date or something? When are you free?"

"How about tonight? I've been bored _out of my mind_," Ichigo moaned, the sound shooting straight to Grimmjow's groin. He'd heard that noise before, although in a _very_ different context.

"Don't wanna sound unwilling, but it's like midnight already and I'm way too tired to go out to any of the sorta places that'd still be open," Grimmjow said regretfully. Most of his initial exhaustion had evaporated during his phone call with Ichigo, but he really wasn't in the mood to go to some smelly club with sweaty people.

"Who said anything about going out? You too tired to just come over?" Ichigo's voice sounded amused, teasing.

Grimmjow perked up. "No, I think I could manage that."

"Sounds like a plan. See, you're not so bad at arranging things after all," Ichigo said as he hung up.

* * *

**A/N: So I skipped the actual smut, hahah...and the plot is actually moving somewhere. I think. Read and review! The more comments I get the faster I'll release the next chapter! It's mostly written, I just have some proofreading to do.**


	5. Catnap

**A/N: This one's kind of a short one, I had a bunch of stuff written but then decided to cut it all for a little plot re-arrangement.**

* * *

Pulling up in front of Ichigo's apartment, Grimmjow got out and shut the car door, pausing in the parking lot for a cigarette. He didn't smoke all that often, but the latest shit-fest at work had gotten him started again.

"You smoke?" Ichigo said as he opened his door and walked out towards the parked car, wrinkling his nose in distaste at the cigarette he saw hanging from Grimmjow's mouth.

"Sure do, you want one?" Grimmjow stopped when he noted the expression on Ichigo's face. "Oh. This gonna be a problem, then?" he sighed, taking another long draft before exhaling it directly at Ichigo's face. To his surprise, the orange-hair moved aside with surprising speed, somehow managing to dodge the cloud of smoke entirely.

Grimmjow hated when people lectured him about the smoking. It was his fucking life, what business was it of theirs if he wanted to shorten it by a decade or so? None, that's what.

Ichigo shrugged. "Not really, they're your lungs. But puff another one in my face and I'll shove that cigarette up your nose." He narrowed his eyes slightly at Grimmjow's loud guffaw. "I mean it, you do whatever you want to yourself but trying to poison me, now that's just disrespectful."

Grimmjow chuckled again. Ichigo's reaction was a somewhat pleasant surprise; he supposed it was a fair enough request. And he'd caught a glint of something hard and steel-like in the man's eyes as he'd issued his last threat. The dude was serious, he was really going to try inflicting some violence if Grimmjow did the trick with the cigarette again. He rolled his eyes; what could a convenience store clerk possibly do to him?

He mulled things over as he inhaled deeply once again. He supposed the request was more than fair. Besides, he didn't want to get in an actual fight and accidentally hurt the man. It was a little bit fun to tease him, but he didn't want to intentionally provoke a confrontation.

He dropped his stump of a cigarette and stomped on it before replying, "Aww, okay. I promise. No hard feelings?" Ichigo nodded in agreement. Grimmjow lifted an arm to wrap around Ichigo so they could go inside together, slightly bewildered when Ichigo shrugged him off.

"Like I said, you can smoke whenever you want and I'll respect that, but don't come near me when you're all smelly like that." Ichigo turned slightly to see the look on Grimmjow's face - a mixture of surprise, irritation, and just a little hint of resignation - before heading back into the apartment alone, a smile flickering at the corner of his lips.

* * *

Grimmjow stood outside for a few minutes, silently fuming, waiting for the cigarette smoke to dissipate before heading into Ichigo's apartment. Walking inside, he discovered that his white shirt from before had been folded neatly and was sitting on the counter, waiting for him. Ichigo followed his gaze and smirked. "Guess where I found it? Wedged in between the couch cushions; you took it off before we even got to the bedroom." Grimmjow snorted.

"So where's mine? You didn't forget it, did you?" Ichigo prompted, frowning when he noticed Grimmjow's hands were empty.

"…Oh. Completely slipped my mind, sorry. What's the big deal, you said I could keep it that time on the phone. You were super pissed about giving it away, too." Grimmjow teased.

Ichigo put on a scowl, but he knew he wasn't pulling it off very convincingly. "Hah, wishful thinking. That was before you called back _begging_ me to forgive you, remember?" he fired back.

"Cheh. Now who's being wishful? I'll never beg," Grimmjow said haughtily.

Ichigo's attention was suddenly caught by the TV, as the commercial break ended. "Okay, shut up now. There's only about half an hour left, and it's one of my favorites."

Grimmjow glanced at the television screen. It was some old cowboy film, with guns and violence and murder in every other scene. "All right, fine with me," he said, slumping onto the couch next to Ichigo.

The orange-head sat still for all of thirty seconds before he was scooting closer to Grimmjow, snuggling up against his shoulder. He slotted in perfectly, like he'd been there all his life. Grimmjow smiled faintly, head lolling back as his arm curled around Ichigo's comforting warmth.

* * *

The movie had ended almost an hour ago, but Ichigo hadn't bothered getting up. Grimmjow had fallen asleep about two minutes in, snoring loudly with his body slumped against Ichigo's. The orange-head found himself secretly glad he always kept the A/C running at max power, as it now gave him an excuse to enjoy the comforting warmth of the form pressed up next to him.

He stretched his arm out for the remote, careful not to wake Grimmjow as he turned off the TV. The man had sounded tired as hell on the phone, but Ichigo couldn't stop himself from practically demanding he come over. It'd been two weeks since he'd last gotten a case, and he'd spent it cooped up in his apartment, slowly losing his mind from the boredom.

His last job had been quite interesting, though. This particular organization was shady as hell - the representative had even refused to give Ishida a formal name, insisting they be referred to as nothing more than 'Central'.

Whatever. Ichigo couldn't care less what his clients were up to, as long as they coughed up the money. The more criminal the business, the higher rates he was usually able to charge - so more often than not, the people Ichigo ended up working for were less than reputable.

Either way, 'Central' certainly paid well so Ichigo wasn't about to complain. They'd offered half a million up front and the rest after completion. Ichigo couldn't believe it - all he'd had to do was help them identify and extract an informant buried in their network - and then tie up the loose ends that hung around after the nark had been eliminated. He'd made a million dollars in the span of two days!

Well, a million minus the expenses and Ishida's cut. They'd probably end up splitting it half and half. To be fair, Ishida _had_ done most of the work, digging through all the files and actually ferreting out the snitch. All Ichigo'd really had to do was pull the trigger and play damage control.

It was his favorite sort of job - running around with a weapon while Ishida had to do all the behind-the-scenes work. The man really was quite invaluable.

A loud snore snapped Ichigo out of his reminiscing as Grimmjow suddenly lurched forward, mumbling something in his sleep. Ichigo caught him gently and pushed at him until he was stretched out along the length of the sofa. Curling up next to him with a sigh, Ichigo felt his own eyelids droop as he let the even rise and fall of Grimmjow's chest lull him softly to sleep.

* * *

They woke up in the middle of the afternoon, sun streaming through the windows as construction work started nearby.

Grimmjow had opened his eyes and found his nose buried in a headful of soft orange spikes. They'd somehow ended up tangled together during the night, Ichigo pushed up against Grimmjow's chest while the blunette had unconsciously wrapped his arms around the smaller man. _This is kinda nice_, he thought as he absentmindedly rubbed a hand up and down along Ichigo's waist, the other arm still pinning Ichigo against his chest.

_Maybe even better than last night…_he frowned, trying to dredge up the memories. Why couldn't he remember what had happened? Frustration nipped at him as he struggled to figure it out. Even great sex was worthless if he couldn't _remember_ it afterwards.

Ichigo stirred and opened his eyes, smiling as he tilted his head up and looked at Grimmjow's sleep-heavy face. "Morning, Grimmjow," he sighed blissfully.

Grimmjow's own feeling of content was slightly marred by the fact that he still couldn't recall a single thing. At least it looked like Ichigo had enjoyed himself, he thought a little enviously. All he remembered was some random scene from the cowboy movie…with a start, he realized what had happened.

All of his clothes were still on, and he was still on the couch. He had fallen asleep during the movie last night. Grimmjow groaned; he must have been more tired than he'd realized. "Are you fucking serious? I fell asleep before we even got to _do_ anything?" he grumbled.

Ichigo laughed, the sound instantly perking up Grimmjow's mood. In their current position, the vibrations echoed straight through Ichigo and hummed directly against Grimmjow's chest. "You looked so peaceful, it would've just been wrong to wake you up. You must have been really tired, I probably shouldn't have made you come over."

"Hah. Like you could make me do anything; I came over because I felt like it." Grimmjow puffed, still cringing a little that he'd driven over only to fall asleep on Ichigo's couch.

"Oh, so you just felt like falling asleep too?" Ichigo teased, amused by the look of devastation that crossed Grimmjow's face. He wriggled a little, extracting an arm so he could pat Grimmjow on the head.

"Aww, don't beat yourself up over it, I'm just teasin'. You wouldn't know it, but I'm actually a total sucker for cuddling," he said, leaning up to place a warm kiss on Grimmjow's lips.

The kiss was a chaste one, but immediately deepened as Grimmjow pressed forward, mouth pushing insistently at Ichigo's lips until they parted, tongues twisting and pushing together. After only a moment, Ichigo abruptly pulled back, leaving Grimmjow sucking at the air as he pushed himself off the couch.

The blue-haired man scowled. "Fuckin' A, Ichigo, what now? Gonna ask me if I have syphilis?"

"Well, aren't you grumpy this morning. I forgot how totally gross morning breath is, I'm headed to the bathroom to brush my teeth," Ichigo said as Grimmjow's scowl deepened even further. "Although…you're free to join me in the shower after that, if you want."

Grimmjow watched as Ichigo winked coyly at him before heading into the bathroom. Grinning now, he slunk off the couch and followed him.


	6. Shattered Glass

Two, almost three months. That was how long ago he'd first seen Grimmjow at the shop, Ichigo mused. It felt like longer. And the first month didn't even really count, since there'd been a week before they actually went out. And then Grimmjow had disappeared for two more.

He scowled at the thought. Grimmjow had promised he wouldn't do it again, but now he'd vanished. Again. It'd been two days since Ichigo had last heard from him. Not that two days was really a big deal, but Grimmjow had been coming over almost every day recently so it was something Ichigo noticed.

He hadn't really done anything in particular, just invited himself in and lounged around, acting like he owned the place. Ichigo didn't mind - he'd grown quite fond of the blunette, and found his presence to be rather comforting. And it wasn't like he had any other plans.

Grimmjow didn't set him on edge like most people tended to do. It wasn't really that he didn't like people, but prolonged exposure was…tiring. Ichigo always found himself plotting how interactions would go, trying to read between the lines in every conversation. He didn't have to do that around Grimmjow; things just kind of fell naturally into place.

That was another thing he liked - the man was so spontaneous, reacting instantly and impulsively to everything. Even though Ichigo could read him perfectly, he still found it difficult to predict what Grimmjow would do in the next situation.

He was like the ocean - constantly shifting. Even when the surface appeared smooth, everything underneath was always changing and adapting. The most peaceful, serene day could instantly morph into a wild thunderstorm, leaving him breathless at the transformation.

And the storms were always present in Grimmjow, threatening to rise up at any provocation. The man hid it well, but Ichigo had seen it in those sea-blue eyes occasionally - a glint of wild ferocity, a fierce flash of danger.

Ichigo found it impossibly attractive. After all, boredom was what ruined relationships, wasn't it? And Grimmjow was many things, but 'dull' was not one of them.

So anyway, Grimmjow had been coming around all the time recently - and then two days ago, nothing. He hadn't called, hadn't said anything about it the day before, didn't pick up his phone.

Ichigo was a little worried, but mostly irritated. The man had already disappeared once before without warning. Something had probably 'come up' again.

Whatever. Ichigo was curious, of course, but knew better than to pry. Grimmjow obviously didn't want to talk about it, and Ichigo had to sympathize with that. It wasn't like he could advertise his own job, either.

Still, it didn't mean the asshole could just up and leave whenever he felt like it. It was fine to be busy; hell he could spend the entire week away if he felt like it! But was it really that hard to just _say something_ beforehand? Ichigo was skeptical.

And there was nothing to _do_, now that Grimmjow wasn't here. Two days was fine, but he didn't think he could last two weeks, if the blunette was gone for as long as he had been last time. Ichigo tried to think of how he used to spend his time before they'd met, but couldn't remember anything. Watch TV? Go to the gym? It all seemed so _boring_. He hoped Ishida would find a new client soon, or he might just go crazy.

* * *

Grimmjow had gotten more caught up in his work than he'd intended. He'd managed things off-site for a couple of weeks while taking his rightful vacation, before finally deciding he couldn't put things off any longer. He really needed to screen all of the new workers he'd hired and make sure they were up to par. Even more important than quality of work, though, was the loyalty. He'd take a three-legged dog over someone he couldn't trust, any day of the week.

That was something Number 4 hadn't been watching for carefully enough, and look where it'd gotten him. Bullet through the head, at least according to the rumors. Of course the organization wouldn't keep him around when his mistake had cost them half the cargo stocked at the warehouse.

The green-eyed creep deserved it, if you asked Grimmjow. Always lording it over everyone else, pretending that he was superior just because he had a better number. They'd been numbered based on geographical location, for Christ's sake! Ass.

Still, the whole incident served as an obvious warning to the rest of the branches - get your shit together, or else. Grimmjow thought some new security measures might be needed, after what had happened to Warehouse 5.

Maybe some bulletproof vests for the more important workers. Not that it would help much if the same crazy fucker from the last disaster came back. Nel had managed to get her hands on an autopsy report - a single arrow, fired clean through the neck.

Grimmjow's hands still shook a little from excitement whenever he thought about it.

He'd spent the two weeks after the incident hyped up beyond belief, nerves strung out, just waiting for a confrontation. He hoped the shooter - archer? - would try the same thing on Warehouse 6. Grimmjow had been so ready for a shoot-out, or at least _some_ kind of action. But nothing had happened.

What a disappointment.

Between the new employee screening, the security planning, and the rest of the ordinary day-to-day business, time had flown by.

Grimmjow woke up in the darkened staff lounge alone, arm stretching out for Ichigo's familiar warmth before his senses kicked in and he'd realized where he was. _Shit, I kind of just disappeared for a while_, Grimmjow cringed. He'd only planned on dropping in for a couple of hours, not three whole days…fuck.

Throwing on a new change of clothes, he hurried out of the lounge toward his car.

* * *

An insistent knock on the door woke Ichigo from his mid-afternoon nap. He usually didn't sleep very often, but…he'd literally ran out of things to do. Ichigo decided he really needed to pick up a hobby or something, the sheer monotony was pissing him off.

Instantly alert, he got up from the couch and made his way to the front door.

If it was Grimmjow, he was going to be pissed. The fucker hadn't made any contact in three days, despite the call Ichigo had left.

Was that clingy, expecting some form of contact? It wasn't like he was demanding Grimmjow come over every day, but surely it couldn't be that difficult to just send a text back if someone called? Ichigo decided if that counted as clingy, then to hell with it. He could be a piece of saran wrap, for all he cared.

He finally decided to open the door. It was Grimmjow.

"What do you want, jackass?" Ichigo snapped. He wasn't really that upset, but maybe it'd happen less often if he complained a little first. He felt entitled to that much, at least.

Grimmjow's half-apologetic expression immediately rearranged itself into a sneer.

"Do I need a reason? I was bored, so I showed up for a fuck." _The hell?_ That wasn't what he'd meant to say at all.

Ichigo narrowed his eyes. "You vanish for three days, then show up on my doorstep 'for a fuck'? Get your head checked."

"The hell are you so mad about? I'm not some fucking _pet_ you can just keep on a leash. You should consider yourself _lucky_ I even dropped by today." Grimmjow retorted sharply, already starting to itch for a good fight.

Ichigo let out an angry bark of laughter. "Hah, lucky? Yeah, I sure hit the fucking _jackpot_ with you, didn't I? I'm sure people are just _falling over themselves_ for your crappy attitude and shitty temper."

"Didn't stop you from throwing yourself all over me, did it? You're such a whore, just can't get enough of me huh?" Grimmjow's sneer had grown deeper. The words stung more than he'd like to admit, so he reacted the only way he knew - retaliation.

_That's it_. Ichigo'd had enough. "Fuck off, I could have anyone in the _whole damn city_ if I wanted to, I don't need you. I'm not putting up with this shit, come back when you're feeling like less of an asshole." He placed his hands squarely on Grimmjow's broad chest and shoved him roughly backwards before slamming the door in his face.

* * *

Ichigo stomped around his apartment, feeling a strong urge to flip the dining room table against the wall. He quashed the feeling, deciding that random destruction wasn't the answer.

But what _was_ the answer? Ichigo had criticized Grimmjow for his temper, but he knew his own was just as bad. He was just fortunate enough that very few things set him off, but whenever anything did, it was way worse than normal.

Why _had_ he been so mad? Three days was nothing; Ichigo had been on cases that sometimes lasted half a month or more, never bothering to keep in contact. His boyfriends in the past had gotten all sorts of pissed off, but Ichigo had always just blown it off.

He wasn't mad that Grimmjow had disappeared, he realized. He'd been mad that he'd gotten so upset about it, felt like some useless trophy wife waiting for her husband to come back. This sort of attachment was unusual for him; it felt like a vulnerability and he didn't like it. Especially if it wasn't reciprocated.

Was this how all the others had felt, sitting at home alone waiting to hear from him?

He suddenly felt a little sorry for them.

...

Honestly though, he'd just wanted to blow off a little steam before letting Grimmjow in, kick up a little fight so he'd feel better about things. But then Grimmjow had gotten that leer on his face and said a whole bunch of shit that really pissed him off.

Maybe he should try to call him, apologize. He did feel a little bad now that he'd gotten a chance think things through.

Ichigo was just reaching for his iPhone when the ringtone of his disposable phone started going off. He looked at it for a second, then lifted it to his ear. Grimmjow could wait until he got back from his case. _See if he likes being the one to wait around, _Ichigo thought petulantly before answering the phone. "Yeah."

"New case. Pretty standard stuff. Everything you'll need is in a duffel bag at the park," Ishida said succinctly before hanging up.

Ichigo grinned. See, nice and simple. No complicated emotions or people or relationships to deal with. Perfect.

He tugged on a light jacket before leaving the apartment, locking the door on his way out.

* * *

Grimmjow fumed as he stood outside Ichigo's apartment, waiting impatiently for the door to open. It didn't.

He couldn't believe the guy was being so petty. Sure, it was wrong of him to just check out for three days. And he shouldn't have immediately jumped into an argument. But that didn't mean Ichigo had to just ignore him for an entire week!

_I should have just let him shout a bit and we could've moved on_, Grimmjow thought a little dejectedly. Ichigo hadn't even looked that angry initially; it wasn't until Grimmjow had pretended he'd only shown up for sex that the guy had actually gotten pissed off.

Still, there'd been some truth to his later words. Grimmjow had to admit he liked Ichigo quite a lot, but he didn't know if he was willing to just tie himself down forever.

His job was dangerous, illegal and oftentimes grueling, but damned if he didn't love it. He wasn't ready to give up that lifestyle just yet, to settle into…domestic life? Grimmjow shuddered at the very prospect.

He wouldn't say that Ichigo himself was uninteresting, but the life he lived…working as a clerk at a convenience store, never stepping outside of the bounds of the law…it was just so _mundane_. Grimmjow couldn't understand how anyone so full of life and vitality could be happy with such a monotonous routine.

Even so, Grimmjow wasn't willing to give up either just yet. He didn't think there was really a forced choice between his lifestyle or Ichigo - at least not yet. He hoped he wouldn't have to choose, but a vague premonition of gloom told him he might just be postponing the inevitable.

He snarled, frustrated with the direction his thoughts had taken and the fact that Ichigo _still_ hadn't opened the goddamned door. The apartment was dark and silent, but Grimmjow wasn't fooled.

There was no way he could have managed to miss Ichigo _every single time_ he came home. Not when he'd stopped by five times already.

Ichigo was definitely avoiding him. The thought ticked Grimmjow off. Was he trying to end things? Hoping to just ignore Grimmjow until he gave up, stopped coming by? The rage was rising, threatening to bubble over.

_"I could have anyone in this whole damn city, I don't need you." _The angry words struck at Grimmjow like lightning, flashing through his mind.

No.

He wouldn't have.

He _wouldn't_.

Grimmjow suddenly envisioned Ichigo, lying there in the arms of another man, lips pressed intimately to some stranger's mouth. Those long fingers running down someone else's body, stroking through someone else's hair. Those dark brown eyes, staring ardently not at _him_, not at Grimmjow but at a new lover.

His breath caught in his throat. For an instant, a thread of pain wound itself tightly around his heart. In the next moment, his fury boiled over.

Ichigo was probably in there _right now_, sharing a good laugh with his new man even as Grimmjow foolishly waited outside.

The thread snapped. He had to get inside. Right now. He hammered at the door, but the sturdy wood refused to give in. Incensed, Grimmjow whipped around towards the side of the building, smashing his elbow in through the window.

In another moment he was inside, stalking savagely from room to room, ready to _murder_ the person who had dared to take what was his.

* * *

Ichigo returned to his apartment late in the night, unlocking the door and flicking on the light before freezing. Something was out of place, didn't feel right.

He rounded the corner to see a sight that made his jaw drop open. Broken glass was everywhere, shards scattered like bits of snow on the floor. A window had been forced open, curtains fluttering lightly in the wind. And a blue-haired man was currently stretched out on the couch, sleeping.

"What the _fuck_?" Ichigo shouted, more out of disbelief than anger.

Grimmjow awoke with a start, sitting up as he realized a certain angry man was towering over him. "You're back. That's good, I missed you," he mumbled, still only half-awake. Suddenly, his brain clicked into place and he realized where he was. "Where the fuck were you? You've been gone an entire week!" he yelled.

Ichigo's eyes widened. "Are you serious right now? _You're_ upset _I've_ been gone? Why do _you_ get to run around whenever you want but _I_ can't even leave the house? I'm not some fucking pet," Ichigo said mockingly, throwing Grimmjow's words back at him.

"Well, _you_ were gone for twice as long! And - " Grimmjow caught himself, taking in a deep breath and releasing it slowly before he spoke again. He wasn't here to have an argument. "I'm sorry. I should have told you before I left. And I shouldn't have been a dick about it when I came back."

Ichigo stood there silently, arms crossed and lips pursed. Grimmjow snuck a look at him before a realization hit him with creeping horror. The window. He'd _broken in the window_ during his frenzied attempt to get inside.

Grimmjow had searched through the apartment for a while before finally convincing himself that no one was actually there. Mind still in a haze from mixed emotions of relief, hurt, and lingering wrath, he'd sat himself down on the sofa to wait for Ichigo's return. He must have fallen asleep. The couch was just so damn comfy.

Shit, this was fucking _psychotic_. Even if he'd stood a chance before of getting Ichigo back, there was no hope now. It would be better to bail before the man called the cops.

Grimmjow knew he should be getting up, making a run for it, but he was glued in place. He would probably never see Ichigo again once he left, and he just wasn't ready for that possibility yet. A sense of heavy despair settled into him. _I should have just let him shout at me the first time_, he thought again, miserably this time.

He heard a long sigh, and a shadow suddenly fell on him, prompting him to look up in surprise. Ichigo was pushing him toward the side of the couch, kicking his legs up before dropping his head onto Grimmjow's lap with a soft thump.

"I'm sorry too," Ichigo said quietly as Grimmjow gaped at him in surprise. "I should have told you I was leaving for the week, and I shouldn't have gotten all pissy just because you were gone for a while."

Only one word came to mind, so Grimmjow said it. "_What_?"

Ichigo looked up at him innocuously. "What?" he echoed back.

"You - you're just letting this go? I mean - well - I'm _happy_ about it, and glad we're not fighting but - this - this - " Grimmjow stammered, trying to find the right words. "What I did was completely _demented_! You're not even going to comment on it?" he finally shouted, waving in the general direction of the shattered glass.

Ichigo listened to the explanation with a touch of amusement. "It's just a window, Grimm. They don't cost a whole lot, I'll get someone to fix it tomorrow."

"What - the cost - that's not the _point_! This is some total _serial killer_ shit I just pulled!" Grimmjow sputtered.

"You wouldn't kill me," Ichigo replied blithely, smiling up at the aghast man staring down at him. A window was just a thing, and things were replaceable. He didn't care much about things.

Then he frowned a little, and sat up. "You're right though, that _is_ pretty fucking weird," he said half-teasingly. "Why did you want to get inside so bad?"

The blunette didn't reply for a moment. "You said…you said you could have anyone you wanted, that you didn't need me," he said quietly. "I thought maybe you were avoiding me, maybe you'd moved on already. And it really pissed me off, so I came inside to kill them. I know that probably sounds insane, but I seriously would have. Still would." Grimmjow's eyes flashed dangerously at the thought and he glanced around the room, as if he could catch some unknown lover.

Laughing, Ichigo put his arms around Grimmjow's neck and planted a kiss on the side of his cheek. "Then I guess we're both a little insane, because that just made me kinda happy." He didn't say it out loud because he knew Grimmjow would hate it, but this was _adorable_, honestly.

Grimmjow could hardly believe this was actually happening, but he wasn't going to complain anymore and risk ruining it. Snaking an arm around Ichigo's back, he drew the younger man tightly against his chest, holding him close to his heart.

Dropping his head down to bury his face in the mess of soft orange hair, Grimmjow whispered something so quietly that Ichigo had to strain his ears to hear it. "Don't you dare cheat on me, okay?"

"I promise," Ichigo said solemnly. "Same goes for you too."

Grimmjow just nodded.

* * *

**A/N: Welp, I lied. I guess there wasn't that much plot after all, just a scene I wanted to write. I do have the whole plot thought out though, in case it looked like I'm just wandering around. Promise.**

**Feedback? Do you think the characters are still consistent from previous chapters? I'm actually pretty curious what you guys think. Also, couldn't think of a good chapter name. Any suggestions would be welcome!**

**Thanks to Ninie-san Note, KayentaKheals and pj for the reviews! Wouldn't it be nice to get a shout-out? Review!**


	7. The Seventh Fighter

**Warning: Some Fight Club spoilers. I mean, it came out in 1999 so idk if I even need to warn about that...**

**I don't own any IPR related to Fight Club. Or Bleach. Obviously.**

* * *

"Wanna come over and watch a movie? I rented one, it's one of my favorites." Grimmjow rolled his eyes. It hadn't taken him long to realize that Ichigo said the same for literally any movie with violence or guns. Was it really so hard to insert a _plot_ somewhere in between the explosions and car chases? Grimmjow didn't really like action movies. People were always surprised to hear that.

It was pretty simple, Grimmjow thought. What was the point of just _watching_ people do something interesting when you could be out there, doing it yourself?

"Sure, Ichi. I'll be over in a few." He didn't mention that he was already halfway there. No need to seem _too_ attached.

* * *

The movie - what was it called, _Fight Club_? - was actually pretty good. Not that Grimmjow minded either way - he would've been content simply sitting on the couch, arm hooked around Ichigo's waist, head resting on the boy's shoulder. Whatever was playing on TV was just a bonus.

"So what'd you think?" Ichigo said, his breath ruffling Grimmjow's hair.

"Not bad. Lots better than the last one." He liked the theme - middle finger to society, living life with abandon, that kind of stuff. "Too bad the good guy dies at the end."

Ichigo blinked. "The good guy? You mean the guy who kicks the shit out of the main character and starts taking over his life?"

"Yeah, that guy. He was cool," Grimmjow grunted.

Ichigo couldn't help but laugh. "You _would_ say that. You two are kinda similar, don't you think Grimm? Except he's more of a badass," he deadpanned, knowing it would probably tick Grimmjow off. It was so fun to push his buttons sometimes.

He was right. Grimmjow lifted his head off Ichigo's shoulder with a growl, eyes flashing. "Who's the badass? He doesn't do jackshit, just starts some crappy secret fighting club. Pathetic."

"Oh I don't know, don't you think the whole idea is just so…liberating? You can't just spend your entire life all cooped up, you know," Ichigo continued pushing, praising every single aspect of the fights until he could literally see a vein pulsing on Grimmjow's forehead.

He's_ lecturing _me _about how to live life?_ Grimmjow would have laughed at the irony if he weren't so pissed off by it.

Ichigo had started play-boxing, curling up his fists slightly as he pretended to jab at Grimmjow. The blunette suddenly snarled at him, grabbing his wrists and pinning him against the floor, knocking them both off the couch.

"What do _you_ know? You wanna see a real fighting ring? It's _nothing_ like what those pansies were doing. That was just acting, real life is different; it's in your face, it's painful, it's _exhilarating_. You wouldn't know _liberation_ if it punched you in the face and mugged you," he spat, words dripping with sarcasm and bitterness.

Ichigo's eyes positively lit up as a huge grin stretched across his face. Grimmjow sat back on his haunches a little, anger suddenly derailed by Ichigo's unanticipated reaction.

"You'd do that, take me to go see one? That would be the _shit_, holy fuck I can't wait!" Ichigo wriggled a little, trying to sit up in excitement but giving up when Grimmjow didn't budge. _This position wasn't so bad anyway_, he thought.

Grimmjow frowned. He hadn't meant to reveal anything about the organization's fighting league, but it kind of just slipped out. Whatever, it wasn't really a big deal. The organization actually encouraged its members to try recruiting more people, so they could increase profits.

Still, he wasn't about to let Ichigo anywhere within ten miles of it. It'd probably scare the poor thing to death if he saw how the real thing worked. "Who said anything about that? I'm just jerking yer chain, those things don't actually exist."

He could have sworn he saw disappointment physically seep into Ichigo's features. "Aww…" the man was silent for a moment.

Ichigo was pretty sure Grimmjow was lying - the hesitant pause, the downward glancing eyes, the slight shift in body weight - it was a dead giveaway. He wasn't about to let Grimmjow deny him something so fun.

Time to do some prodding.

The younger man spoke again with a sigh. "I should've known you weren't being serious. You're way too lame to be involved in anything that cool."

Grimmjow grunted. He wasn't going to fall for something so transparent. He had the vague feeling both of them knew what was going on here, and he wasn't going to lose. "Yeah, sorry Ichi. I'm just boring like that."

"Yeah, you're just some tired, dried up old man. The closest you ever got to a fight was probably when your mother spanked you. If someone raised a fist at you, you'd assume they were posing and take a picture. You - " Grimmjow clapped a hand over Ichigo's mouth, shutting off the increasingly absurd string of insults.

"Shut up, we get the point already. I suck. Whatever. Can we drop this now?" Grimmjow said, trying to keep his temper in check.

After almost a full minute of silence, Ichigo nodded, although a light in his eyes said otherwise. Grimmjow ignored it, removing his hand and glad to be off of the subject.

"Good," he nodded. "So what do you wanna do now…? Movie's over, and we've got a pretty good set up here…" he grinned and moved his hips suggestively.

The orange-haired man twisted a little in response, arching up slightly while trying to release his arms. Grimmjow shifted his weight off to allow Ichigo some freedom of movement.

In a flash, Ichigo had extricated himself from underneath Grimmjow and was perched up on top of the couch. Grimmjow looked at him in confusion. What the hell had just happened?

"_You_ can do whatever you want. Go home if you like. _I'm_ going to go jerk off to Brad Pitt, his character was _soo hot_ in that movie. I think I might be in love," Ichigo sighed dreamily, getting off the couch and floating towards his bedroom.

Grimmjow's mouth fell open in stupefaction as he gawked at Ichigo's retreating figure. Something clicked in his mind.

"Fucking FINE, I'll take you to that shitty fighting ring if you want it so bad! Fuckin' _asshole_!" he shouted as Ichigo turned around with a giant smirk on his face.

* * *

It had been another week and a half, but Grimmjow had _finally_ gotten around to making good on his promise. Ichigo could hardly contain his enthusiasm. He'd always, _always_ wanted to join one of these, but he couldn't afford to be too high-profile. And it wasn't like he could just show up alone, either. Too many people would be asking too many questions, asking how he'd known about the place, who'd invited him, and he didn't want that kind of attention.

But now he had an in. He didn't know how Grimmjow knew these people, but he wasn't particularly surprised. Nobody on the _right_ side of the law got so upset when someone asked an innocent question about their job.

They'd driven ten or fifteen minutes out from the center of town, into a pretty rundown neighborhood - but the stadium itself looked brand new. Nothing like what he'd imagined. It was located in the underground portion of an abandoned parking garage, completely innocuous looking until you got past the security doors and went inside.

The inside was a whole different story - the place no longer resembled anything like a parking lot. Wide rings of seats sloped downwards toward a small arena that was encased in high glass walls and much bigger than a standard boxing ring.

From the looks of it, a fight had just finished up - two medical personnel had entered through a door in the glass and were currently trying to load someone onto a gurney. He didn't look like he was in very good shape.

"Surprised? Not everyone makes it out of there smelling like daisies," Grimmjow commented beside him. "You sure you still wanna watch?" He was looking at Ichigo carefully. He'd given in during the heat of the moment, but he was still apprehensive about the whole idea.

The careful gaze was kind of bothering Ichigo. He didn't need to be shielded from the gorier aspects of life. He'd seen plenty of it, thank you very much, and it wasn't like - he cut off the thoughts. Grimmjow was doing something nice for him here, and it wasn't really his fault he was acting like this. For all he knew, Ichigo was _exactly_ the kind of person who would faint at the sight of blood. "I'm fine, don't look so worried," he finally opted for saying.

Grimmjow snorted. "I'm not worried," he lied. "Just givin' you a warning."

"Well, thanks. I'll keep that in mind," Ichigo said, doing his best to keep the sarcasm out.

.

A hand suddenly grabbed at Grimmjow's arm, causing him to whirl around.

"Fancy seein' you here, Grimmjow! It's been a while, hasn't it?" An overly happy voice rang out. A man with silver hair and a sinister-looking smile was tugging at his wrist, pulling him closer toward the ring. "C'mon, I'm sure everyone will just be _thrilled_ to see you!"

He sharply yanked his arm away. "I'm not fighting today, just watching." He tried to look around for Ichigo, but somehow the man had melted into the crowd, orange hair nowhere to be seen. A slight panic nipped at him; out of all possible times to get separated, it had to be here, with this kind of crowd?

The manager was pulling at his arm again. "Well that's too bad, isn't it? Because we're one short and you're here, so you're in!" A throng of people had appeared in front of Grimmjow, pushing him closer and closer to the center of the building.

"Fuckin' A, Gin, I'm not here to fight!" Grimmjow yelled distractedly, still searching for a glimpse of familiar orange hair.

All at once, he was shoved through a plexi-glass door, which abruptly locked behind him. Gin's smile grew a little wider. "Well, you don't _have_ to fight, but that wouldn't be a very good idea, hmm?"

Grimmjow spun around to see six other fighters in the ring with him, each and every one looking ready to pounce.

* * *

"Aaand welcome to our final match today! We're pleased to announce we have some _special_ entertainment for you fans tonight…it's the _Sextaaaaa_!" The announcer's voice rose as the audience roared, working themselves into a frenzy.

"It's the Game of Sevens, you know the rules everyone! Betting ends in fifteen minutes!" The announcer continued, straining to make himself heard over the shouting.

Ichigo frowned, turning to the person next to him. It took some effort, but he finally got the person's attention. "What are the rules? And how does betting work?"

The man stared at him in disbelief. "It's the sevens, don't ya know?"

"Clearly not, since I'm here asking you," Ichigo said, prodding him for an explanation.

The man grinned. "First time here? You're in fer a treat. They throw seven people in the ring - free fer all, anything goes. No weapons, though. But bettin's kinda tricky - the odds start at 1 ta 7 and go up from there, but you gotta guess the winner right, who'll get knocked out first, _and _the runner-up. Most people c'n get one or the other, but not all three. And, the fighters, they sometimes team up on the favorite - just to get 'em outta the way. So that fucks wit' the bettin', too." The man wrapped up his surprisingly lucid commentary to return to his beer, eyes on the ring.

Ichigo followed the man's gaze, where he saw a shock of electric blue hair. "That's Grimmjow!" he said in astonishment.

The man smirked. "Ya really are a first-timer, not knowing the _Sexta_. He's the favorite this round, got his name from this game, actually. Personally beat up all six people in the ring his first time fighting. People almost always team up on him nowadays. Haven't seen 'im around for a bit though. Hey, where ya going?" he said, as Ichigo suddenly stood up from his seat.

"I'm off to make a bet, of course," Ichigo replied, grinning as he disappeared back into the crowd.

* * *

Hesitation gone, Grimmjow let his face fall into a cocky smile as he waved up at the clamoring crowd. _Don't have a choice now, might as well enjoy myself,_ he thought. Betting would be over in just a few minutes, after people had taken a look at the fighters.

...

A bell rung overhead, and the ring exploded into action.

Three of the fighters rushed immediately at him, ganging up from the start. Grimmjow's mouth twisted into a feral smile. _Amateurs_. You never just dove in like that. _This'll be an easy one_, he thought confidently.

He drew his arm back and smashed a fist into the face of the closest man, a small guy who had jumped right in, completely defenseless. The man fell back, clutching at his nose. Spinning around quickly, he dodged a punch from the huge guy on his right, driving an elbow into the gut of a man who had been creeping up behind him. Grimmjow shoved the man backward and he fell onto the floor, gasping as he struggled for air. _I'll deal with them later_, Grimmjow thought as he turned to face the big guy who'd thrown the punch.

The man was watching him carefully, as if he'd realized the foolishness of just running forward. Grimmjow jabbed a finger in the air, beckoning to him. "Scared? Don't worry, I'll be gentle," he taunted as the giant roared in rage and lumbered forward.

A meaty fist came swinging down at him like a hammer. Grimmjow ducked and rolled out of range. The man was exceedingly slow, but getting hit could seriously hurt.

Still…Grimmjow was itching to _fight_, not to dodge. Moving forward, he easily sidestepped another punch. Here was his chance - the man had overreached, and the missed blow had left him off balance. Grimmjow grabbed the man's hair and yanked his head down, ramming his fist into the man's temple. He lashed out with his foot and swept out the man's legs out from underneath him, causing him to crash onto the floor. Several vicious blows to the ribs and stomach left the man curled into a pathetic, trembling heap. Grimmjow kicked him once in the face, just to make sure he stayed down. He heard a sickening crack as something broke.

The man stayed down.

"Thaaaat's it! The first one out! Whoooo would have thought!" The announcer bellowed after the giant had stopped moving. Grimmjow tuned the rest of the commentary out, preferring to stay focused on the fight.

Two of the fighters were immersed in their own brawl, ignoring Grimmjow. That was fine with him, he'd be back to take down the winner. They really would've stood a better chance if all six had gone for him at once, though.

An arm suddenly latched onto him from behind, wrapping around his neck and squeezing. The small man from before ran in from the side, fists swinging. One of them connected with Grimmjow's side, prompting a grunt of pain. His body registered the injury and lack of air, prompting a surge of adrenaline.

Grimmjow took advantage of the guy pinning him from the back to swing up his legs and donkey kick the short man in front of him. His feet landed squarely on the man's chest, and the runt was sent flying almost comically through the air before landing heavily on the ground more than a yard away.

Now wheezing from the guy still trying to strangle him, Grimmjow planted his feet down and launched himself backwards, crashing the pair of them into the heavy plexiglass that served as a rope around the ring. He heard the man's head smack loudly against the unforgiving wall, and the grip around his neck immediately loosened. Greedily sucking at the air, Grimmjow threw the man off and spun around to face him.

To his disappointment, the man was already slumped up against the wall unconscious. Snarling, Grimmjow stalked off to find his next opponent.

The bloodlust had completely taken hold of him now. Grimmjow lost awareness of everything but the men left in the ring, the satisfying _smack_ of his fists as they landed, the intoxicating feeling of domination, the maniacal laughter that was escaping from his lips.

The fight was over all too soon. Grimmjow stood, looking around eagerly for another opponent, but there was no one else there.

"We have a winner! The _Sexta_, everyone!" said the loudspeakers as medical personnel began to clear away the other fighters. There was no prize, and Grimmjow liked it that way. He fought for the act itself, not money or glory.

He was halfway out of the ring before he remembered why he'd been there in the first place. _Fuck, I completely forgot about Ichigo_. He hadn't even seen where he'd gone before the fight started. Was he okay? Had he…had he seen all of that? Seen Grimmjow in the ring, seen him laughing as he'd broken someone's bones? _Fuck_.

He knew it'd been a bad idea to bring Ichigo here. And if he'd been worried _before_ about how Ichigo would react, it was much worse now. Ichigo hadn't just watched a bunch of strangers in a mindless brawl, he'd watched _Grimmjow_ punch the living daylights out of someone and _enjoy_ it.

If Ichigo had any sense of self-preservation, he'd be running for his life. And Grimmjow wouldn't even blame him.

A flash of bright orange caught his attention, and a mixture of relief and trepidation coursed through him. At least he was okay. Grimmjow watched somewhat anxiously as Ichigo wound his way through the crowd, moving incredibly quickly despite the throngs of people. Or maybe he just thought that because he wanted to avoid the inevitable confrontation.

_He's almost here._ Never in his life had Grimmjow experienced the impulse to turn tail and flee, but he felt it now. _Fuck this, I ain't no fucking coward. _Forcing himself to stand his ground, he turned to face his fate.

* * *

"Holy shit, Grimm, that was _awesome_!" Ichigo cheered as he approached the blunette. He'd been a little nervous at first, sizing up the six other men and calculating how much damage they could do. But then he'd noticed Grimmjow's cocky smirk, the perfect fighting stance, the confident but excited aura. So he'd just sat back and watched the show.

It was a _great_ show. Grimmjow had taken someone down almost instantly, dropping the rest of the fighters with deadly grace. And he had an absolutely _vicious_ laughter, filled with a savage desire for violence. Ichigo had never heard it before, not like that, but it called to him, stirred up a deep and animalistic urge that he'd only ever felt when hunting down a target. It was primal.

And it was so, so_ hot_.

This was someone who understood the thrill of the chase. The inexorable, inescapable need for release, for gratuitous violence, to do something _crazy_ and for once in life not worry about the consequences. Someone who could maintain a thin veneer of sanity even as the tempests of bloodlust raged on underneath. Ichigo had never felt such a strong connection to anyone, any_thing_ in his life until now.

And here it was, standing in front of him, just within reach.

* * *

_This isn't making any sense, _Grimmjow thought in bewilderment, watching Ichigo's delighted face as he chattered on about the fight, clearly unaffected by the violence he'd just witnessed firsthand. Did this man _really_ have no survival instinct?

A pair of hands were delicately patting at his body, checking the severity of his injuries. The corner of his shirt was suddenly lifted up, as Ichigo peered at the place he'd been punched earlier.

Ichigo whistled. "That one's gonna leave a pretty bad mark tomorrow. I'm surprised, you barely even reacted when the guy hit you." He grinned. "Good thing they didn't mess up that pretty little face of yours, or I'd be giving them a few more beatings of my own."

Grimmjow nodded absentmindedly, still absorbed in his own thoughts. "You seem to be taking this pretty well." The comment was made before he could stop it. The curiosity was just too damn strong.

The orange-haired man shrugged. "What's not to take well? I mean, the bruises are going to be kinda ugly for a while, but they seem well worth it. You really looked like you were enjoying yourself out there," he said. For an instant, Grimmjow thought he detected a brief flicker of envy on Ichigo's face, but it was quickly gone. He dismissed the idea as ludicrous.

"No, I meant the whole 'the man I'm sleeping with spends his free time beating people into bloody pulps' thing. Anyone with a normally functioning brain would've been scared off by now," Grimmjow replied. A part of him was screaming at him in horror. _Are you _trying_ to push him away? What are you going to do if he actually listens to you?_

He didn't have to answer that question, because Ichigo was clearly not listening to him. The man leaned in even closer, brushing his lips against Grimmjow's in a light kiss.

"Jesus Grimm, anyone with a brain at _all_ would have noticed I'm not..._normal_ already. You're going to need a lot more than a broken window and a fight club to scare me away." The line sounded almost like a challenge, as if he were daring Grimmjow to push him even further. The two stared at each other in silence for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts.

Then Ichigo laughed, and the moment was gone. "Besides, can you _believe_ how easy it is to make money here? I thought the guy was lying when he explained how it worked!" He waved a wad of cash in front of Grimmjow's face, as if to emphasize the point.

Grimmjow frowned a little. This set-up was supposed to be the organization's most profitable - deceptively attractive to would-be gamblers, but difficult to actually cash in on because of the threefold requirement. "Probably just a lucky guess. It's set up to work against you, stupid."

This earned him a scowl from Ichigo and a light cuff on the ear. "Was _not_ just luck, I knew exactly what was going to happen. We did get a full fifteen minutes to decide, you know."

"Well if you're so smart, then explain it," Grimmjow challenged.

Ichigo huffed, crossing his arms at the provocation. "Easy. First one - winner - obviously you." He rolled his eyes at Grimmjow's wolfish grin. "Don't get a big head or anything, the other six were obviously amateurs. I don't think a single one of 'em has been in the ring more than ten times."

"Fine, I could have told you that much," Grimmjow said, unconvinced.

Ichigo continued, undeterred. "The big guy - he was going down first. He had it out for you from the beginning, along with two of the others. But you're the kind that likes a challenge - you would've tossed the other two aside so you could fight the big guy first. And if you fought him first, then he'd be going down first. Simple.

So the last pick is for the runner up - this one's a little harder. Shorty and the Strangler are out, since they're trying to attack you first. And two of the remaining three wanted a grudge match or something between themselves, because they kept glaring at each other instead of the other five people in the ring. So I picked the last one left - he was kinda just standing around, trying to look neutral. He was hanging back until you finished off the grudge-fighters, then got his ass kicked.

So there! Bet all the cash I had on me, ended up with a little over ten grand." Ichigo smirked triumphantly at the slightly slack-jawed expression on Grimmjow's face.

"You're _way_ too fucking smart to be wasting your time as a convenience store clerk," Grimmjow finally said.

Ichigo was silent for a moment, thinking over how to reply. "Well...I - "

* * *

**A/N: Hah, kind of a cliffhanger...what'd you think? Too much emphasis on the fighting? I thought it was a good way to establish Grimmjow's character/persona, but let me know what you think.**

**Please please please review! Do you like the direction the story's taking? I really do read these, I find them super helpful/encouraging!**

**Thanks to pj, Hollow Ichigo-Ichigo for the reviews! And to you people following, drop me a note so I know how I'm doing! Thanks!**


	8. A Killer at Eight

Ichigo hesitated. "Well…I-"

"-And what do we have here? Friend of yours, Grimmjow?" Ichigo's halting sentence was cut off as Gin suddenly appeared between the two, mouth curved in a smile that did not quite reach his eyes.

"Yeah." Grimmjow glared a little before replying. Gin could be dangerous if he wanted, but Grimmjow didn't think the man was feeling particularly malicious at the moment. Even so...he was getting a bad vibe. "He's _taken_, so back off," he said as he noticed Gin looking Ichigo up and down appreciatively.

Ichigo was feeling the same unease. Anyone who referred to him as a 'what' - even if subconsciously - probably didn't have his best interests in mind. Still, ignoring him would be suspicious.

Arranging his face into an easy grin, Ichigo warmly extended a hand and said, "Nice to meet you, this place is really great! I saw you leading Grimmjow off earlier, are you the one who put him in the fight?"

Gin cocked his head, assessing the young man in front of him. He had a slim build, but possessed the easy grace of an athlete - someone who was confident in their strength. "Sure did, that was me. Enjoyed it? What do you say we put you in for a round or two next week?" The organization could always use fresh fighters - believe it or not, the turnover rate was actually quite high.

_Bad idea. _Ichigo had to be exceedingly cautious in the sort of attention he attracted - he didn't want to make _any_ sort of impression on the underworld, apart from through an alias. His operations attracted plenty of enemies as it was, and he didn't want to give them a way to track him down. A fight would be fun…but it was far too costly in the long run. "Sorry, I don't think I'm really up for that," he politely declined.

"Come on, just one round - then you can see if you like it or not. We'll put you up against someone easy," Gin pressed.

Grimmjow had been watching the conversation with a growing sense of irritation. Ichigo was acting far too friendly. And since when had he started calling him 'Grimmjow' again? It wasn't as if they had anything to hide, and Grimmjow quite liked the pet name. And _why_ had Ichigo hesitated for so long before refusing? Watching was one thing, but actually fighting? The people here would tear him apart like cotton candy! The mere thought of Ichigo standing inside of the glass walls was enough to raise Grimmjow's hackles. He finally lost his temper when Gin continued to push even after Ichigo had declined.

"Fuck off Gin, he's not interested," Grimmjow snarled at the silver-haired man, stepping around him to stand next to Ichigo. He tugged at Ichigo's arm impatiently, pulling him towards the exit. "Let's get out of here, everyone's almost gone already," he said to Ichigo, who was lagging behind.

As the two headed back up the stands, Ichigo turned around and waved apologetically at Gin. "Sorry 'bout that, it was nice meeting you though!" he called. Grimmjow didn't bother with a goodbye, single-mindedly heading for the doors.

* * *

Gin watched the couple leave the building with interest. He hadn't been particularly interested with the orange-haired young man - until he'd seen Grimmjow's unexpected reaction. Potential fighters were always a plus, of course, but that had been a passing remark, nothing more. This…_protectiveness _that the blunette was displaying was incredibly unusual, though.

In the time that he'd been observing Grimmjow, Gin had never discovered any close friends or family that the man ever kept in touch with. He seemed to mostly keep to himself, aside from a few hook-ups every now and then. But those always ended quickly, and it was never the same person twice. This was a new development. A good one.

Gin carefully dialed a number on his cellphone before lifting it methodically to his ear, waiting patiently for the other side to pick up.

"It's Gin. Our favorite man stopped by the ring today - won, of course - but he brought someone with him. Cute, too - I think this might be a keeper," he said as he heard the call connect.

A calm, monotone voice replied back. "Good. See if we can't get some better…leverage using it. Send me any surveillance footage you have, and find out who this new _someone_ is."

"Will do, boss," Gin said with a smirk, snapping his phone shut with an ominous _click_.

...

A shadowy figure hung up the phone on the other end. Walking over to the far end of the room, the stranger lifted an archery bow from where it hung on the wall. The smooth, polished wood gleamed even in the relative darkness, reflecting what little light existed.

The man smiled pleasantly as he casually drew a steel-tipped arrow from a quiver on the floor and nocked it into place. In a single fluid movement, he effortlessly drew back the bow and fired, letting the projectile fly unerringly towards its target. It buried itself into the wall with a dull _thunk_.

He drew closer to inspect the target, humming in satisfaction as he noted how perfectly the photograph had been punctured, the arrow now lodged directly in the center of a certain _Sexta's_ forehead.

"I've got you now."

* * *

"…You were saying something back then, weren't you? Before Gin showed up." Grimmjow was talking again, visibly more relaxed now that they were back in his car, driving away from the abandoned parking lot.

Ichigo froze up a little. What had he been thinking? Had he really been about to tell Grimmjow everything, with barely even a prompt from the man? What was _wrong_ with him?

He wasn't playing games here. Lives were on the line - people would die, _had _died because he'd been careless before. And he was under no obligation to tell Grimmjow the full truth, not when the man was hiding so many secrets of his own. Besides, there would always be time to talk later...

Ichigo chose his next few words carefully. "Yeah, but it's not really that urgent. Don't worry about it. And it's not a 'convenience store', by the way, we sell _plenty_ of other things." He saw Grimmjow roll his eyes at the correction. "I'm not kidding, there's like, antiques and heirlooms and even some not-so-legal goods, if you know the right people to ask," he winked.

"Does that mean what I think it means? What the hell are you doing, selling illegal shit out of a podunk little hole like that? Don't fucking tell me it's anything dangerous," Grimmjow almost snapped in reply. He found himself hoping that it would be nothing more than bootlegged movies or something equally harmless, but Ichigo's conspiratorial tone was warning him otherwise.

Seriously, was this guy just _looking_ to get killed or something? He was so…fragile, so breakable. Grimmjow had pinned him instantly before, with no effort at all.

_Maybe I'll teach him some self-defense or something, _he thought moodily. If Ichigo was going to insist on being reckless, the least Grimmjow could do was make him a bit more survivable. _Not that it'll help against bullets_, a grim voice in his head piped up.

Meanwhile, Ichigo was still busy pursuing this new topic. "Why don't you stop by sometime and see for yourself? If you drop by the store when I'm around, I'll give you a tour, how does that sound?" he said, relieved Grimmjow had dropped the previous subject so easily.

The blunette just grunted.

The rest of the conversation was light-hearted and didn't touch on any subjects of importance; the two fell into the familiar rapport that had emerged between them as they began to know each other better, talking easily and just passing time.

Grimmjow casually shifted so that his left hand was clutching the steering wheel, letting his right hand fall rather obviously onto the center console. He noticed the slight curve of Ichigo's lips, and knew that he had picked up on the gesture. Ichigo moved his arm onto the console as well, hand slipping into Grimmjow's in a fit that just felt _right_.

Turning Grimmjow's hand over now, Ichigo traced a finger along the knuckles, frowning a little as he noticed the slightly torn-up skin. "You didn't have to punch them that hard, you know," he chided, though there was no force in his words. "I don't like seeing you hurt, either," he said almost softly, as if he'd picked up on Grimmjow's earlier worries.

The blunette just smiled, fingers intertwined with Ichigo's, eyes on the road as the beauty of night-lights flashed by on either side of them.

* * *

_Everything was dark and sinister. Panic. Fear. Ichigo was running, running away, his whole body straining, limbs flailing, heart pumping but he wasn't _getting_ anywhere, wasn't getting away. He was moving so slowly, far too slowly, he wouldn't be able to escape - what was he running from?_

_Disoriented, he stopped. Turned around. Saw a kind-looking man with a gentle voice reach out to him…why was the man so tall?_

_Ah. It wasn't that he was tall, but that Ichigo was small - so small, childlike as the man lifted him up, held him in his arms, comforted him. He sighed - peace. The first time he'd truly felt safe, warm and calm in a friendly stranger's arms._

_Suddenly, the scene shifted. Distress. Confusion. Terror. Why was the stranger making him do this? Had he done something wrong? The man cowering on the street before him - had _he_ done something wrong? Ichigo didn't know what to do, didn't know what was right or what to think, didn't know what was going on._

Kill him_, a voice commanded. A gun. A gun in his hand, cold-heavy-steel pressed into his tiny hands, hands barely able to grasp it, hands trembling as he realized what he was supposed to do._

_But he knew now. Only one voice had ever reached him, guided him forward, provided him solace when everything around him was in chaos and pain…_

_A gunshot. A man fell over, sprawled out in the street._

_He'd killed him._

...

Ichigo shot up with a strangled shout, clawing at his tangled sheets. Faint moonlight shone in through a large window, casting a familiar glow on his surroundings. His bedroom. Everything was all right. He forced himself to breathe, to calm down, to just _relax_. Everything was all right.

It had been the dream again. Not just _a_ dream - _the_ dream. The only dream he'd ever had. He forced himself to analyze it, to think, to remember what had happened so he wouldn't have to face it again.

He hadn't had the dream for years. He'd picked it apart so many times - thought he'd dealt with all of the issues, psychoanalyzed himself over and over until he'd resolved it.

It wasn't even a dream, really, just a reliving of some of his early childhood memories. Ichigo wanted to laugh at how badly the memories had been distorted during his sleep. _Kind stranger? Hah._

The 'kind stranger' had taken him in, off the streets - only to use Ichigo for his own ends, trained him to kill and maim and torture on command, a useful little tool in any good crime lord's arsenal. Ichigo had only been eight when he first killed a man.

Only two weeks later he'd been ordered to kill another. Then another, a month after that. The faces sort of blended together after that. He'd risen quickly, become the newest, most talented, most _useful_ tool of all. And he'd discovered it wasn't so bad after all. He liked it. _Loved _it, even.

Not the commands, or the forced obedience - he hated that with every fiber of his being, rejected it in every part of his soul. He was no servant. But the thrill of the kill, the rush that only surged with a successful hunt, the satisfaction of knowing you were the _best_ - not simply good, or even great, but the _best_ - that was something he could learn to live with.

And that's what he'd done. He'd stayed there for years before he'd been able to carry out his escape. It was how he'd met Ishida - the two had left together, combined their skills to get them safely away. Ichigo had gotten them out; Ishida had made sure they'd never be found. They'd moved halfway across the country, adopted names that they'd made up for each other, taken on new lives.

The two didn't talk much or interact beyond the occasional calls that were made to arrange drops. There was no real need to. They'd been through it all together; had each other's backs when no one else would. They didn't need to cry to each other about it, it was just a fact of life.

But it was also an unfortunate fact that Ishida, bless his heart, was not very much fun to hang out with. So they didn't.

Most people would probably have been more screwed up by the whole experience. Ichigo counted himself as lucky. He'd gotten away essentially unscathed. He was financially stable (more than stable really), and didn't have any terrible mental scars, only had the occasional bad dream.

Although he supposed most people would also count the insatiable bloodlust he'd developed as a pretty large mental scar. Ichigo just accepted it as a...personality trait, if you will.

Well, and then there was the weird quirk that made him incredibly touchy feely with the people around him. Ichigo attributed it to the first time he'd ever felt safe and protected: scooped up in some stranger's arms, enveloped in a welcoming embrace and warm body heat. Even though _that_ particular incident had turned out badly - in the understatement of the century - it still left Ichigo with a deep-seated desire for physical contact, for intimacy.

It was an easy enough want to fulfill - he'd never experienced a shortage of willing volunteers. But physical attachment always came with that messy entanglement of _emotional_ attachment, and that was always so difficult to deal with. Ichigo wasn't opposed to the idea of a relationship - but these people just got to be so _boring_.

Always settling into some kind of routine, just puttering around in a daily circle, round and round and round, like they never got tired of just doing the same thing over and over again. Once the newness wore off, Ichigo moved on. It was almost becoming something of a habit.

The orange-haired man furrowed his eyebrows slightly in thought, flopping over onto his back and resting his head on folded arms. The dream was long forgotten by now, discarded for more interesting concerns. So if he really had such a habit, then what was Grimmjow supposed to be? He'd already been around for far longer than anyone else in the past. Was it simply because he had this secret that the familiar boredom didn't set in? Maybe.

But…Ichigo didn't think so. There'd been entire weeks he hadn't felt the slightest curiosity about Grimmjow's occupation, yet he'd been just fine with the man coming over, hanging around. Grimmjow was mercurial, always changing, always interesting.

Never boring.

And Ichigo was thankful for that.

_It's 5:30 in the morning_, he realized as he finally looked at the alarm by his bed. It was much too early to be thinking about such things - to be thinking about anything, really.

He rolled over and soon fell into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

**A/N: Well, it's a little bit shorter than the last few chapters. But I've been kinda slow writing it and didn't think it was fair to change my updating rate on a half-cliffhanger. So there it is! **

****I'm trying to update fairly regularly/quickly - like, a chapter every few days - but I'll only keep it up if you guys continue your reviews :) And it would be a lot easier to find if you followed the story, just sayin'.**

**Thoughts on the mysterious (hah) new character/background information/developments? **

**Thanks to FrostySquid, nana, pj, terrynow, ChaoticMind, Silver wolf and Hollow Ichigo-Ichigo for the feedback!**

Some specific responses - (I don't really know if this is the place to do it. If not someone please tell me, I'm not overly familiar with this site yet.)

nana & Silver wolf - Yup, they do meet! It's a big plot point. You'll see :P

pj - don't think Ichigo will be getting into the ring anytime soon (for reasons explained in the chapter) but he'll definitely be in for some action soon!

ChaoticMind - thanks for the chapter suggestion! I kind of adopted it for ch6, what do you think?


	9. Knife

He'd only been asleep for what felt like a few minutes when an insistent buzzing noise woke Ichigo up. Instantly alert, he pushed aside the blankets and padded into the kitchen to pick up the phone.

"Hey," he said, skipping the formalities.

Ishida did the same, not bothering to apologize for waking him before seven on a weekend. "New case. You can pick it up at - "

Ichigo interrupted before Ishida had a chance to finish his sentence and hang up. "Um, I have to stop you there, because I don't think I'll be taking this one…"

A long pause. Ichigo had never turned down a case before. In the first few months or so after they'd set up business, Ishida had been in the practice of floating several jobs, leaving the final pick up to Ichigo. But as the years passed, the selection process had become much more abridged and efficient. Ishida began to pre-screen clients based on Ichigo's interests, choosing one and then simply calling in with information and a drop point. Shorter phone calls were good, too - harder to wiretap or track down. Ichigo never complained about the process - he trusted Ishida's judgment, and it saved him the hassle of reading through multiple case files.

For all intents and purposes, this resulted in Ishida having virtually unlimited decision-making capabilities. But Ichigo still had veto power whenever he chose to exercise it - he just didn't do it very often.

"What's wrong," Ishida finally stated. It wasn't a question, really - more of a demand.

Ichigo sighed, scratching at his head a little in chagrin. "Well, I'm actually…it's a funny story really, but…oh, what the hell. I'm going on a date tomorrow night, and I don't want to bail," he said, deciding to skip the crap and cut to the chase. Ishida wouldn't let up until he had the real answer, anyway.

"A date…" the remark was rather flat and emotionless, but Ichigo could detect a faint note of surprise. Ishida didn't ask any further questions, turning back to the business at hand. "Fine. I will inform the client, and retrieve the supplies and documents. Barely even a worthwhile case, anyway, but it'd been a while so I thought you would have jumped at the opportunity."

To be honest, Ichigo was a little surprised, as well. He'd never prioritized anything before a job in the past, but for some reason the idea of going off on a case just wasn't as appealing as it usually was. Maybe his visit to the fight club had temporarily fulfilled his urge.

He realized that Ishida hadn't hung up the phone yet, still waiting for Ichigo's confirmation. "Yeah, that'd be good, thanks. Hey - " he quickly added before Ishida ended the call. It was one of the problems with talking to someone who hung up the phone so abruptly, you never really had the chance to think. He tried to figure out exactly what he wanted to say, but couldn't quite put it into words.

"Yes?" Ishida prompted at Ichigo's hesitation.

Ichigo gave up and just said the first words that came to mind. "I think I might tell him. About this job, this other...life. He always looks so worried whenever I leave."

It was true - they'd gotten in the practice of warning the other before they left, but it wasn't rare for either Ichigo or Grimmjow to simply disappear for a few days. Neither of them asked any questions; both wanted to, but couldn't quite bring themselves to broach the subject. Neither wanted the question turned back upon themselves. A ridiculous little tap-dance, one that Ichigo would be glad to end.

But it wasn't simply his secret to tell - whatever he did would affect Ishida as well. The two operated so closely together that if he were ever caught, Ishida would surely be dragged down with him. And more than that, it was a shared experience, a private history that he didn't want to disclose without Ishida's consent.

Ishida's response held an intensity that Ichigo hadn't been expecting. "Absolutely not. He will be nothing but a liability. It will compromise our identities, increase the risk of exposure. The knowledge will put him in danger, as well. People would gladly use him to find you, if the need ever arises. Torture, or a lure maybe, and I'm sure you could come up with even more methods. All for the sake of what, a clean conscience? To protect his feelings? Many fools have died for less, but I have to insist that we will not be among them."

"I…" Ichigo was a little thrown off by the vehemence of the reply, with the cold but clearly outlined logic. "It was just something I was kind of thinking about, I wasn't going to tell him right away or anything," he said defensively.

Ishida was unrelenting. "You cannot tell him at _any_ point, unless you are willing to forfeit his life - and ours."

"Bit melodramatic, aren't we?" Ichigo rolled his eyes, but the underlying argument had merit.

There was a sharp exhale of air on the other end. It was about as close as Ishida usually got to laughing. "All of our precautionary measures will have been for nothing if you simply shout it out for the streets to hear. Burner phones, disguises, a different drop point for every case, constantly changing aliases and methods of operation - I would say _you_ were the one being melodramatic. And yet it's all worth it, just so Aizen won't find us."

Ichigo knew he was fighting a losing battle. "Fine. I won't say anything about it, I'll give you my word. Happy?"

Ishida was silent for a moment. "You know this isn't just for me. I'm not trying to swear you to secrecy, I am simply informing you of the correct course of action. That's why you asked me, wasn't it? But what you _do_ is up to you, just keep in mind that your choices do not only affect yourself. And don't make promises that you can't keep."

They both hung up after that. There wasn't much else to say.

* * *

Ichigo headed toward his front door quickly as he heard the distinctive thump of a car door outside, opening it just in time for Grimmjow to walk in. He'd given the blunette a key after the whole window smashing incident, but the older man seemed to have a grudge against his house or something. He never actually _used_ the key, just kicked at the door until Ichigo opened it.

"Hi, Grimm." He leaned forward and gave Grimmjow a peck on the cheek. Ichigo wasn't really sure why he'd done that - just felt like it, he supposed.

The blunette's eyes widened in surprise for a moment at the gesture before his characteristic smirk was back in place. "Hey, Ichi."

"So where are you taking me, Mr. 'Dinner and a movie is boring'?" Ichigo asked curiously. Grimmjow had been more proactive than usual for this particular outing, even announcing it a few days beforehand. That was a pretty low bar to set, but it was a definite change from their usual approach of just getting together and seeing what happened.

"You'll see soon enough," was Grimmjow's only reply.

Ichigo stretched lazily in response before looking critically at Grimmjow's clothes, then back at his own. He'd been dressed pretty crappily since he'd been home all day, opting for sweats and an oversized shirt. "I'm clearly underdressed for wherever we're going. What do you think I should wear?" he asked as he walked through his bedroom to his closet, tugging off his shirt as he went.

A pair of hands reached out from behind, running themselves along his bare skin, skimming over the flat planes of his stomach and chest before a voice appeared next to his ear. "I kinda like what you're wearin' now," Grimmjow said playfully as he pulled Ichigo into a hug from behind, chin resting on the younger man's shoulder as he peered at the enormous amount of clothes hanging neatly off a rack.

Ichigo laughed, the sound still managing to put a smile on Grimmjow's face even after all this time. "How about this one?" Ichigo asked as he pulled out an outfit.

"It really doesn't matter all that much, honestly," the blunette replied. Two minutes later he'd changed his mind.

Ichigo was wearing the tightest pair of jeans he'd ever seen - they somehow made his already long legs look even better, and emphasized his lithe body. Grimmjow grabbed him by the waist and turned him around to get a good look at his perfectly-shaped ass, smile widening in approval. "Heh. I like these," he said lecherously.

"Glad you approve," Ichigo said in amusement as they left the flat.

* * *

"Well, here it is," Grimmjow announced as they approached a modern-looking building. Music was pulsating from somewhere inside, spilling out onto the sidewalk where they stood. _Panthera_, loud signs proclaimed in flashing colors. He turned and watched for Ichigo's reaction.

Ichigo wasn't nearly as excited as he'd been for the fighting ring, but he didn't exactly look upset, either. "A night club on the weekend? Hardly any less cliche than dinner and a movie," he remarked. To be perfectly honest, he had a somewhat mixed opinion on the establishments - great place to pick up a one night stand, but not the best safety-wise. Too many people and loud noises, which made it far too easy for an enemy to get close.

Then again, he was probably just being a little paranoid. The last time he was in a club he'd shot someone and nobody had even noticed until he was already several hundred miles away. He'd been grateful for the setting _that_ time.

Grimmjow was scowling a little. "Shut up, it's supposed to be pretty hard to get into. Had to ask a friend for the favor, so be a little more appreciative, won't you?"

"Fine, fine - I very much _appreciate_ all the hard work you put into setting up this date. So can we go inside then, or what?" Ichigo asked.

Grimmjow relented, and they soon found themselves immersed in the throbbing crowd.

* * *

_The jeans had been a bad idea_, Grimmjow decided as he noticed yet another stranger openly stop to stare at Ichigo. The younger man had been attracting attention since the moment they'd walked in, and not even Grimmjow's fierce glower had managed to ward off the most drunken of admirers. Ichigo obviously had experience in dishing out rejections though, and had sent them all away before Grimmjow started tearing heads off.

"Let's dance. Too many vultures here," he grumbled as he led Ichigo off towards the center of the club.

Ichigo snickered. "What, jealous I'm getting all the attention? People would talk to you too if you didn't constantly look like you were going to kill someone," he teased.

"That's 'cause I'm going to, if they keep it up. You're mine, don't forget that," he growled, pulling Ichigo closer as a new song came blaring on overhead. Their bodies followed the rhythm of the music, pressing together and pulling apart with the rise and fall of the beat.

"I don't _belong_ to anyone, but I like you a lot more than them," Ichigo amended. His pride wouldn't let him simply accept the declaration. But then he noticed Grimmjow's brows pinch slightly together, saw his jaw harden just a little. "You can't own me, but you can touch me, taste me, know that you're the only one here I give a damn about. And that's more than I've ever offered to anybody," he conceded before pulling the blunette down into a deep kiss.

Ichigo relaxed, letting Grimmjow ravish his mouth, push firmly past his lips, run a tongue against the roof of his mouth, twisting against his own. His hands curled into Grimmjow's hair, pulling just hard enough to encourage but not hard enough to hurt, urging them on. He rubbed up closer against Grimmjow's broad chest, grinding their hips together as they moved to the song, still keeping up the pretense of a dance.

When they finally broke apart, the tightness in Grimmjow's face was gone.

* * *

They left the club after another hour or so, both pleasantly intoxicated, even weaving a little as they walked. Grimmjow had wrapped an arm firmly around Ichigo's waist as they ambled forward. He was humming the last song they'd heard, although a little more loudly than he probably intended. Ichigo was idly wondering where he could buy a set of glowing neon lights like the ones they'd had at the club. The colors really were very nice…

"Heey, you. You. Yeahh, you. Got any money onna?" Ichigo glanced over at the grubby, unkempt man who had just walked up to him, hands shoved deep into the pockets of a filthy overcoat. The man was now mumbling something indistinct under his breath, seemingly distracted by a nearby street lamp.

Grimmjow had also paused to look curiously at their approacher. They were in a pretty wealthy district; beggars usually congregated in areas with fewer police. He didn't see any officers around though, which was probably why the panhandler had taken to approaching people directly.

Ichigo pulled out his wallet to examine the contents. "Umm, sure. I have…a hundred on me right now, you can have it," he said affably as he counted out the bills. He was in a good mood, and it wasn't like he really needed it. He pulled the money out, ready to hand it over to the stranger when the man suddenly snarled, shaking his head.

"That's not _enough!_ You, you got anymore?" The man gestured roughly at Grimmjow, waving an arm around aimlessly.

Grimmjow glared. "What, a hundred's not good enough for a fuckin' handout? Get lost, ya ingrate." He was about to turn and continue down the street when the man suddenly grabbed Ichigo's arm and yanked at him.

The unexpected tug was abnormally strong, and Grimmjow, startled and still a little drunk, loosened his grip just enough for the younger man to be torn away. Grimmjow temporarily lost his balance, then looked up to see a scene that made his blood run cold. The stranger had pulled Ichigo several feet away, and was now brandishing a long kitchen knife he'd pulled from underneath his large coat.

Seeing red now, Grimmjow advanced forward, ready to cripple the idiot standing in front of him. Who the fuck did he think he was, yelling and waving a weapon around? He took another step, then froze. The man had pressed the blade of the knife to Ichigo's neck and started dragging him even further backwards.

What was he supposed to do? He'd been in plenty of fights against armed attackers, but he'd never had to deal with _this_ before. How was he supposed to get close, to attack if the man kept pulling Ichigo backwards, kept threatening him with the knife? Grimmjow's mouth went dry. The weapon was nothing, just some ordinary thing suburban housewives probably _cooked_ with, but it looked absolutely perilous hovering just inches away from Ichigo's throat. _Shit, shit, shit…_he paused, trying desperately to think of a course of action to take.

The man had started yelling again. "I need five grand! You're gonna give that to me, or I'll cut his fuckin' head off, you hear me?"

Ichigo snorted. "Jesus man, what's wrong with you? Who the hell carries five grand in cash around? You'd be better off winning the lottery than- " he was cut off as the man suddenly began yelling in rage.

"Stop talking or I'll kill you! Shut up, _shut up,_ shut UP!" The man drew out the last word for a full minute while his volume escalated, screaming until his voice broke and he ran out of air. Ichigo glanced upwards and saw a crazy, insane anger in the attacker's eyes. _He's completely mad_, he thought.

He hadn't seen anyone this far gone in a while - there was no talking down someone like this. Looking down, Ichigo saw that there were bloodstains on both the knife and the man's clothing. _I wonder what poor sap had the misfortune to die to this guy, _he thought idly.

His brain was buzzing from the alcohol. Some small, rational part of him pointed out that he was being overly focused on details, things that didn't matter - he really shouldn't just be lazing around like this.

Grimmjow had been standing stock still, mind racing as he tried to organize his thoughts. They didn't have enough cash between the two of them, so that wasn't an option. Could they reason with him? Maybe Grimmjow could get him talking, then disarm him when he wasn't paying attention. Or what if - Ichigo was saying something, and the man had suddenly started screaming, clearly off his rocker. He couldn't afford to just sit there, waiting for something to happen. _Fuck it all_, Grimmjow thought as he dashed towards the pair. If he moved quickly enough, maybe he could get the guy before he did anything.

An instant later, he realized how badly he'd miscalculated. He was still much too far away at this point, but the man had already noticed, was clearly reacting…Grimmjow was relieved to see the man lift the knife away from Ichigo's throat, but a icy terror gripped him when he realized the man was merely repositioning his blade. Grimmjow watched in disbelief as the man drove the blade down, aimed directly at Ichigo's heart…he was still too far away. He could only watch in horror as the knife plunged downwards.

* * *

"Oh, for fuck's sake." The blade's descent abruptly stopped as Ichigo's hand flew out and grabbed the would-be murderer's wrist in an iron grip, violently twisting it backwards with a _crack_ as the man howled, dropping the weapon to the ground with a clatter.

Without another moment of hesitation, Ichigo blurred into action. He reached out with his right hand and gripped the man's arm at the elbow, wrenching it towards himself. His left hand, still locked around the attacker's wrist, simultaneously twisted and shoved outward, snapping the man's wrist and forearm.

Before the man had even reacted, Ichigo had released him completely and whipped around, smashing his fist into the man's face with a sound that definitely indicated something had broken. He sank a knee into the man's gut, just for good measure. He watched indifferently as the man fell towards the ground with a whimper, crumbling into an unconscious heap. The blade had been on the ground for less than ten seconds when its wielder joined it.

Walking back towards a stunned Grimmjow, Ichigo scratched the back of his head and yawned. "Man, I'm going to have _such_ a headache tomorrow. Let's hope at least one of us remembers to file a police report, that guy could be dangerous if we just let him run around any longer," he said nonchalantly. He turned around when he noticed that Grimmjow wasn't following him but rather was still rooted to the ground, gaping at him. "What's up with you?" he asked.

"The knife - he was going to - but then you - just, _what_?" Grimmjow managed to sputter out. He finally got his body moving, stepped towards Ichigo and gingerly tilted the orange head's chin up, looking carefully for a wound. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw not even a trace of a cut.

Ichigo let out a puff of laughter. "You were worried about that? He wasn't even a threat, just kind of obnoxious and incredibly smelly. Probably got my shirt all dirty, too."

"But he had a knife to you, and was going to kill you, then I pissed him off and he was going to stab you, and you reacted so _quickly_ and that was amazing, and how the _hell_ did you learn to do that?" Grimmjow knew he was barely coherent at this point, but he was still reeling from what had just happened.

The younger man just rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. Where did I learn to do what? You beat up _six _healthy, able-bodied men in less than ten minutes. I get away from _one_ drug-addled hobo and _I'm_ the amazing one? He couldn't even string a sentence together! Honestly, Grimm, you just seem _astounded_ by the fact that I've managed to survive for twenty six years without your protection," Ichigo said lightly.

"That's not what I - but you did - and he had a - whatever, I'm just glad you're all right. I'm allowed to do that, aren't I?" Grimmjow said before drawing Ichigo into a fierce hug. The man was acting like it was insane just to be worried, to think for even an instant that a man holding a _knife_ could possibly be threatening.

"Yeah, yeah. You're such a softie, you know that?" Ichigo teased, although he still let himself fall into Grimmjow's arms. They stayed like that for a while, until the wind picked up and reminded them that they were standing outside in the middle of the night.

"Come on, let's go home," Ichigo said as he walked over to pick up his wallet, skipping lightly over the motionless body of his attacker. Then he paused for a moment, and turned back around to scatter a handful of bills on top of the hapless stranger. "I already told him he could have it," he explained to the astonished blunette watching him.

The thought suddenly occurred to Grimmjow that Ichigo wasn't nearly as naive as he'd initially appeared.

* * *

Gin knocked softly at the door, nodding once at the guard before slipping past him into the building. The long hallway he'd entered was painted completely white and sparsely decorated - just the way Aizen preferred.

The place was always hushed, quiet - almost _too_ much so, like there was something not quite right about the place. His footsteps echoed as he walked on tile, sounding unnatural and out of place compared to the usual silence. Gliding slowly down the corridor, Gin eventually made his way into a room near the end, lighted only by a few candles.

"The surveillance footage - did it get everything you wanted?" He asked of the shadowed figure sitting in front of a large, dimly glowing plasma TV. A grainy video was playing on loop across the screen, showing various passers-by as they milled around the glass cage of the fighting arena.

Aizen let out a short laugh. "Oh, I think you'll find that this has wildly exceeded expectations, even given your initial optimism. I do believe we've caught something on tape that is _far_ more interesting to us than Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez." He picked up the remote from a small table to the side and pressed a button before sitting back, smiling in perfect satisfaction at the image on the screen.

The video had paused on a single frame - Grimmjow, frozen in the middle of what appeared to be an engaging conversation with a slim, orange-haired young man.

"Tell me, have you ever met anybody with that _particular_ shade of orange hair before?" Aizen drawled slowly.

Gin paused as if pondering the question, but he knew that his boss didn't care about his answer. "No, I can't say that I have. Do you know anyone with hair like that?"

Aizen answered slowly, savoring the moment. "Yes, but only one."

* * *

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**A/N: Well, that's another chapter! Let me know what you think in the comments!**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed the previous few chapters - Hollow Ichigo-Ichigo, Silver wolf, nana, Soya Pie, kira1525, FrostySquid, TokenAsian, and dizzyblond3 - I really appreciate the feedback, please keep it up!**

**If you have any questions, feel free to ask away! I always give some kind of response through PM/author notes, even if it's not the exact answer you want :P**

******Oh, and something big happens in the next chapter...don't miss it!**


	10. Ten Hours

***IMPORTANT NOTE*: So there was a slight problem when uploading chapter nine, and the very last section was cut off. You should flip back and make sure you've read the last part of chapter nine before you keep reading, it helps things make more sense. I fixed the chapter fairly early on but some people had already seen it beforehand. So, sorry/thanks for reading/enjoy! In that order.**

* * *

_9:15 PM_

A bell rang faintly, signaling the entrance of a customer into Urahara's shop. Ichigo was delighted - here he was, just starting to get bored, and a new shopper came strolling in. Hopefully they'd be somewhat interesting.

Things had been going well lately - Grimmjow had been staying over more often, and business at the shop had been going well. Ishida was preoccupied with some kind of cyberhacking case, which had in turn granted Ichigo a two-week vacation.

"Welcome, how can I - " Ichigo's voice died in his throat, and he abruptly set down the trinket he'd been cleaning, barely even noticing as it cracked against the hard ceramic counter. The customer standing in front of him was someone he sincerely hoped he'd never see again in this lifetime.

"Really now, what kind of greeting is that? And after so many years too," Aizen said softly, with a quiet smile that for all the world looked completely harmless.

Ichigo shot a furtive glance quickly around him, looking for a suitable weapon, anything really. _Fuck, I can't believe I was so careless_, he condemned himself. He'd kept a fully loaded automatic assault weapon stashed under the counter for years, _years_, gathering dust until Urahara had discovered it and overreacted as usual, _insisting_ Ichigo take it home because he 'just wouldn't feel safe' with it here.

Ichigo had complied, reasoning that it'd been long enough, that he'd been careful enough, that people had stopped looking. For four years since the escape he had been vigilant, carried a gun with him everywhere, hands twitching towards it whenever he'd seen even a glimpse of brown hair, a flash of light off a pair of glasses. He knew _that_ was ridiculous, of course; there was no way Aizen would come in person, probably preferring to just send in a horde of minions. He'd watched for tails, listened to police scanners, done _everything_ to ensure that he'd be prepared when Aizen came for him.

He'd been convinced that someday Aizen would do just that - and he'd stayed convinced, for several years. But at some point during the influx of new and exciting cases, the stringent safety protocols, the successfully maintained anonymity, Ichigo had become complacent. He'd relaxed.

And now look where it'd gotten him. Unarmed and caught off guard in front of the man he'd been hiding from for the past six years.

He took a deep breath. Slowly released it. The mask slid on easily, a skill he'd picked up from when he had still worked under Aizen. It was a persona, a psyche, a strength that he could summon simply through concentration and sheer force of will; he still employed it regularly on cases that warranted the effort. "Why are you here, Aizen." His voice was flat, cold, completely devoid of emotion despite the anxiety he'd felt only moments before.

Aizen's smile grew almost imperceptibly wider. "What else could I possibly be here for? I want you to come back, to work for me again. Our organization has missed you dearly. This is completely voluntary, of course - I only want you back if you're absolutely onboard."

The words caught Ichigo by surprise. _He wants me to come back? Seriously?_ This wasn't what he'd been expecting - a bullet to the head, a forced dip in a pool of acid, maybe, but certainly not this almost cordial visit. "Why? You're not…angry?" he asked guardedly.

The man on the other side of the counter put on a hurt expression. "Oh come now, I know we may not have parted on the most…amicable of terms, but I'm confident that we can make amends. After all, you would be a far greater asset to us alive and on our side than buried in the ground. And I'm a very reasonable man."

Ichigo knew Aizen would not take it kindly if he laughed at that last statement, so he didn't. But he wasn't buying any of this - the moment he and Ishida had left, there'd been a target on their backs. People who tried to escape were traitors, the enemy. _This is a set-up_, he decided. Still, better to play along and buy some time than to immediately refuse.

"I'm…honored that you view me with such high regard, but you must realize this is a very big decision for me to make. Surely you don't expect an answer right away?" he replied, hoping that his ploy would work.

Aizen answered immediately, breaking into a warm smile that somehow lowered the room temperature by several degrees. "Of course, of course, take your time! I'll give you three days - after that, call me with your decision." He pulled out a phone and tossed it to Ichigo, who easily plucked it from the air.

They stared wordlessly at each other for a moment before Aizen spoke again. "What, nothing else to say? You're curious, I'm sure - how did we track you down after all these years? What could you possibly have done wrong, that we were able to find you?" he prompted.

Ichigo just stood silently, waiting for the other man to continue. Aizen had always felt the need to talk, to explain just how _genius_ his plans had been, how elegant his solutions, how inferior his enemies. He wouldn't be able to resist such a strong temptation to gloat, after such a long time. And he _was_ curious - what was the fatal flaw, the mistake he and Ishida had somehow overlooked despite their meticulous efforts?

"Very well, if you insist," Aizen continued, breaking the silence. "Oh dear, this really is _such_ a funny joke. You see, to be perfectly honest we ceased pursuit of you after a year and a half. It was quite a blow of course, the sudden loss of _both_ members of our number one team, the executioner _and_ his operator, but we simply needed to move on. To spend any more time would be futile, as well as a waste of valuable resources.

So we gave up. Moved the business in a new direction, actually. And who would've thought, four years later you come wandering _by total accident_ into the path of our CCTV cameras. At a fighting ring, of all places! I was absolutely overjoyed to see you." Aizen finally wrapped up his monologue with a dignified smirk (something Ichigo was sure only _he_ could pull off), watching carefully for a reaction.

The younger man forced his face to remain impassive, even as his mind was racing. _Funny joke? Try cruel. _Of course he'd known that there would be security cameras - that was exactly why he'd disappeared into the crowd so early, why he'd avoided the ring until the fight was over. There had been no _godly_ reason why anyone should want to examine security footage _after_ a fight had ended, especially since nothing of interest had happened afterwards. And even if they had, the chance of seeing and recognizing him had been absolutely minuscule - he hadn't made a scene, hadn't stood out to the camera in any way.

After a long moment, he simply sighed. _Shit happens, I guess._ At least it hadn't been a lack of diligence on their part - that was a bit of a relief.

Although Aizen had been patiently waiting for a more outspoken reaction, he must have concluded that the drawn out sigh would be all he was getting. He took it as a cue to continue. "And tracking you down after that was perfectly simple, of course. Just a matter of time. By the way, who is your blue-haired friend? You two seemed to be _awfully_ close." Aizen leaned in as he said this, face only about a foot away as he watched Ichigo intently.

Ichigo thought he might have involuntarily flinched at the mention of Grimmjow, which had spilled so carelessly from Aizen's lips. He fervently hoped his mask hadn't broken, even for an instant - any sign of weakness would immediately be capitalized upon and used against him. A faint bell rang in the distance, as if in warning.

The words came easily, his facade holding strong even as he mentally shrank back from the harsh words. He needed to distance himself, to ensure that Grimmjow was never drawn into this, to establish beyond all doubt to Aizen that the blunette would not, _could not_, be a useful piece in this game. Because if he failed to do so…Ichigo didn't want to think about it.

He heard his own voice, twisted into an ugly rasp of laughter. "What are you talking about? He's nothing, just a fuckbuddy I see sometimes. Everyone gets those urges, don't they?" he lied. "Someone like him could never serve any other purpose," he finished, referencing Aizen's fondness for human tools.

That was pretty convincing, as lies went. He'd almost believed his own words for a second after he'd said them. Aizen's eyes narrowed - a flicker of uncertainty passed across them for the first time - and the two stood in tense silence for a while.

The brown-haired man finally replied. "My mistake, then. Please, do think this matter over carefully will you? I am eagerly awaiting your reply." And with these words, Aizen spun on his heel and walked towards the exit.

Ichigo watched him round the corner before releasing the pent-up tension in his body. Leaning forward onto the counter, he buried his head in his arms. He couldn't afford to simply sit around after such an encounter, he knew that, but…just one moment. That would be enough. He'd figure out what to do after that.

Aizen rounded the corner, only to come face to face with another man, completely out of view from the counter. Not out of hearing range, though. He flashed him a charming smile. "Good evening, Mr. Jaegerjaquez," he said softly with a slight nod before sweeping around Grimmjow and out of the store.

* * *

_9:29 PM_

"Ishida, we need to talk. Now. At the park. Bring your stuff. _Now._" Ichigo hung up before he said too much on the phone. The old caution and vigilance was back now, full blown, just as strong as it'd been the first month after they'd run for it.

He tried to review the series of events, to make sense of what was going on. Aizen had waltzed into his place of work, during his shift - so they were watching the store. But he hadn't seen anybody following him back to the apartment. He was sure he'd have noticed if that happened. Still, they should check to be safe. If they hadn't discovered Ishida's presence yet, Ichigo wasn't going to be the one to expose him.

And what was Aizen hoping to accomplish, simply asking him to come back? He _had_ to know Ichigo had absolutely no intention of doing so. That much had been made clear by the fact that he'd left in the first place.

So what kind of game was he playing at?

He really needed to talk to Ishida. Ichigo sprinted for the door, grateful he'd chosen to drive the car today. He'd relocated the assault weapon to a hidden compartment in his car - out of the store, but still relatively accessible when he needed it. He certainly felt like he needed it now.

* * *

_9:37 PM_

Ichigo met Ishida at the park less than ten minutes later. Ishida always kept his cellphone on him, even during cases, and for this Ichigo was intensely grateful. He made a mental note that he would have to do the same from now on.

It'd been almost half a year since they'd seen each other in person. Ishida for the most part looked completely unchanged, but his eyes held a new sense of urgency. "What's happened?" he demanded as soon as Ichigo was within earshot and they'd made sure the perimeter was clear.

"Aizen. He happened to see me on a surveillance camera, tracked me down at the store. Came in on my shift - no threats, just talked. Said he wanted me to work for him again. Gave me three days to decide." Ichigo's words burst out in a staccato, opting for clarity instead of eloquence.

Ishida processed the information immediately. _"Shit!" _he yelled.

Somehow, the outburst from such a normally refined and quiet man helped to calm Ichigo's nerves. "Yeah, something like that," he said, letting out a rush of breath he'd been half-holding the entire time. "I want you to check my place, see if it's safe. He knew where I worked, so they could be planning an ambush at the apartment. I've got some useful stuff stashed, and I'd prefer to talk there if possible."

Nodding, the operator flipped open his laptop and began typing quickly, pulling up both interior and exterior images of Ichigo's apartment, complete with full diagrams.

_Thank god Grimmjow broke in that one time_, Ichigo thought as he watched Ishida expertly scan through the feeds. He hadn't minded when Grimmjow had done it, he really hadn't, but the intrusion had triggered a slight shadow of the paranoia he'd had six years ago. Within a week, he'd scattered button-sized motion detectors throughout the flat. They were small enough to avoid discovery in all but the most careful of sweeps, but still managed to transmit useful information.

It wasn't as good as a camera, obviously, but Ichigo couldn't stand the thought of constantly being watched even in his own home. So the motion detectors would have to do. He'd rigged them up to broadcast information to an external encrypted website, accessible to anyone with the correct address and password. Not the most secure, but transmitting that kind of information to his home computer was useless if he wanted to know about unwanted intruders ahead of time.

"Clean. Nothing's moved in the past five hours," Ishida finally declared.

Ichigo breathed a sigh of relief. "Let's head there, then. Better than staying out in the open, and we'll have more privacy."

His phone buzzed once in his pocket, then ceased. Ichigo frowned; he thought he'd disabled all incoming calls. Unlocking it, he realized that Grimmjow had sent him a text. 'Meet me after your shift.' was all it said.

_Wasn't he supposed to be at work?_ Ichigo thought. Grimmjow had told him yesterday he'd be away for a while, so this was unexpected…

He quickly fired back a text. 'Can't. Busy.'

* * *

_10:10 PM_

Back in Ichigo's apartment, the two quickly got to work. Ishida set up camp on the dining room table while Ichigo made a pass through the flat, lifting up several floor tiles as he went. Underneath the tiles he'd stashed massive piles of various foreign currencies and weapons, as well as extra ammunition. He'd had to raise the whole damn floor half a foot, but the lowered ceiling height was worth it.

Ishida was still typing away at his laptop when Ichigo returned after placing the floor pieces back in place. "I can't believe Aizen gave you three days! We can be out of the country in less than two _hours_," Ishida said with a note of disdain.

"Well since he gave us the time, we should make the most of it - take things slowly, make sure our tracks are covered, that we can't be followed," Ichigo warned. "Besides, we should have left _years_ ago, it would've avoided all of…_this,_" he gestured vaguely. But they hadn't. They'd gotten complacent.

He wouldn't be making that mistake again - there was still something _off_ about Aizen's actions. Could they really trust that Aizen had simply given them a three day head start? Still…Aizen was a notorious liar and a master manipulator, but if there was one golden rule he never touched, it was a deadline. A strange quirk to rely on, but the man hadn't violated it once in the entire decade or so they'd known him.

Pausing as he looked absentmindedly at the computer screen, Ishida took a moment to think it over before agreeing. "Fine, we'll go with contingency B. Takes a little longer, but it's absolutely untraceable. I'll need twelve hours to confirm the logistics, pick up our new passports, IDs, all that stuff, and get us onto an international flight."

Ichigo smiled and relaxed slightly, glad that their careful planning had resulted in such an airtight option, still ready to go even years after the fact. "Fuck, I feel like teenagers again, planning our great escape," he half joked.

Ishida did not return the smile. "You'll never see him again, you know. We can't take him with us," he said.

The words didn't seem to quite sink in at first, floating around in the air as Ichigo struggled to make sense of them. Then he saw the massive, gaping hole in their plans. _Grimmjow._

He was astounded, baffled, simply _shocked_ he hadn't realized it earlier - he'd thought about the blunette multiple times during their planning, even _texted_ him once at the park, but he just hadn't comprehended what this meant. The idea had simply never occurred to him. The planning, the crisis management, it was just a trick to get away from Aizen - but he'd be picking up his life right where he'd left off, after things had blown over. He'd settle down in another place, another country maybe, but he'd keep doing his jobs, keep calling Ishida, keep seeing Grimmjow. How could he have forgotten that these plans didn't include Grimmjow, had never included him? He'd just…_assumed_ it, assumed that Grimmjow would be there with him when he left - it was a given, a granted, a constant in the variable.

When had that happened?

He fished for an answer but for once nothing came to mind.

Ishida took his silence as denial, and pressed on. "Ichigo, we've had these plans in formation for _years_ - that's how long the initial preparation took, that's how long it _takes_ to set things like this up. These ten hours, it's just - it's just making the final call for things that have been waiting for us, for more than half a _decade_. Passports in particular - it takes _weeks_ to get a credible fake put together. Cultivating entirely new, untraceable identities in a foreign country? Just as hard. He doesn't _have_ any of those things - if he comes with us, it'll leave a blazing trail for Aizen to follow. We simply cannot take him with us," he repeated.

And then after a pause, "I'm sorry." He rested a hand on Ichigo's shoulder.

Ichigo remained silent. He had to think, approach this rationally, just think and it would be okay. This was _Aizen_ they were talking about. The tyrant they'd grown up under, slaved under during grueling training sessions, served under according to his every whim. They'd watched comrades, _friends,_ executed mercilessly for the tiniest mistake. They'd seen him personally _behead_ someone simply because she'd tripped and fallen down in front of him. Aizen did not deign to suffer incompetence.

They'd escaped once. They now had the chance to escape again, either because Aizen had underestimated them or simply miscalculated. They would probably never have this chance again.

He nodded slowly. "All right, I understand."

At his words, Ishida gave a quick murmur of approval before he began briskly and efficiently packing his things together, slinging it over a shoulder. "I'm going to get everything together. We'll meet in the park at ten in the morning tomorrow, bring everything you want to keep and we'll load it up there. Don't worry too much if anyone sees you, we've set this up so it won't matter either way."

Ichigo just nodded again. "Hey…" he called as Ishida was leaving. Ishida had already opened the door, was halfway out, but he turned around at the call. Ichigo didn't say anything else, just stepped forward a little.

"We'll make it through this together, okay? Just like we always do," Ishida said reassuringly. He pulled Ichigo into a brotherly hug as the orange head came closer. "Everything will be okay. I'll see you tomorrow, all right?" He released Ichigo, turned and headed out the door, shutting it softly behind him.

* * *

_12:02 PM_

Ichigo let out another long sigh after Ishida had left, slumping against the door. _Everything will be okay_, he repeated to himself. They'd be out of the country by this time tomorrow. He'd never have to deal with Aizen again, and honestly nothing else mattered, nobody but him and Ishida. Right? The people they were leaving behind forever, what did they matter, _everything will be_ -

There was suddenly a hammering at the door, so loudly that Ichigo thought the wood might splinter.

* * *

**A/N: Again, sorry for any confusion caused by the chapter 9/10 wonkiness.**

**Please read and review! Or follow! I update fairly quickly (~2 times a week, I think) so that function seems useful :P**

**Opinions on Ishida? He didn't really have much of a role when this started out, but it's kind of expanded. Mainly because he serves a decent function and helps to establish Ichigo's character/backstory a little better? Hopefully he's not too boring for you guys, I never really liked him much on the actual show. Review please!**

Thanks to Terrynow, Foxluna, Soya Pie, Kandi-coated Mystery (who I got the ch 9 title from!), and Ninie-sanNote for the reviews! I KNOW more people are reading than just that, so please take LITERALLY 10 seconds and leave a comment!


	11. Eleven Words

**A/N: **Warning - angst ahead. At least if I've done it right. Haha. Let me know what you think! This was kind of depressing to write, so leave a review and cheer me up if you want chapter twelve to be out anytime soon .

Thanks Ninie-sanNote, Soya Pie, AnomalyLady, sakura-blossoms-falling, ImSeriousBro, Hollow Ichigo-Ichigo, scratchienails, TokenAsian, terrynow and Foxluna for the awesome comments! Wow, that's kind of a lot of people :) I've answered some of your questions in PM, but read and enjoyed all of them!

Oh, and I've realized the story title is seriously a little boring. If anyone has suggestions, I'd love to hear them!

* * *

_Turn back the pendulum…_

_9:25 PM_

Grimmjow pushed open the door to the convenience store and walked in, a bell chiming pleasantly as he entered. He'd left work a day earlier than usual, pushed it off to Yammy. He thought it would be fun if he stopped in unannounced, a nice kind of surprise. Ichigo would be delighted; Grimmjow could already see the man's eyes light up, could already hear the bubbling laughter.

_I'm turning into such a sap_, he thought as he grinned. For some reason, he no longer seemed to care. Besides, this would give him a chance to see just how dangerous the shop's black market stock was. He didn't think it would be anything _too_ risky, but he couldn't be sure. Ichigo might enjoy playing it a little loose with the law sometimes, but Grimmjow doubted he would go much farther than a couple of illegal imports, things that were perfectly safe but limited by the state. Hopefully.

He was just passing by an aisle of school supplies when he heard an unfamiliar voice near the back of the store, asking about a 'blue-haired friend'. Grimmjow paused. Who was asking, and why? He wanted to step forward, approach the counter, but something in the stranger's tone of voice stopped him.

Ichigo's reply was cold, unfeeling, detached. "_He's nothing, just a fuckbuddy I see sometimes._" Grimmjow had never heard Ichigo speak so emotionlessly before, but here he was, reducing Grimmjow's entire being into a sex friend like he was reading out loud from a chemistry textbook.

Grimmjow wanted to walk forward, wanted to confront him, but he was frozen in place. A distinguished looking gentleman with brown hair suddenly appeared before him, greeting him by name before disappearing again. Grimmjow didn't think he knew him, but he couldn't care less at the moment.

Silence filled the store, roaring in his ears. He couldn't be here right now, couldn't stand the _sight_ of all these bright fucking colors everywhere, reminding him of what he'd been thinking about just seconds before he'd overheard that conversation. He stalked out of the store, trembling with pent up anger and confusion.

He wrenched open the car door and jammed himself inside, starting up the engine and pulling away from the curb. He didn't have any destination in mind, just wanted to drive, to get out of there. A few blocks passed by in blissful inattention before he forced himself to think about the issue, take a step back and just _think_.

This was an overreaction. He was getting all twisted up over nothing, just a few words he'd overheard. And on a conversation he'd been eavesdropping on, no less. He wasn't going to be a little kid about it, losing his head over something like that. No, he'd act like an adult - call Ichigo, talk to him about it, ask him…what, exactly? He wasn't sure, but talking had to be better than nothing.

_Okay, we'll do that_, the more rational part of Grimmjow's brain decided. Another part of him wanted to simply smash a fist through the windshield, or maybe drive his car through the fucking _wall_ of the convenience store, but the first idea won out. He pulled out his phone, dialed a number that he'd long since memorized.

The call never connected. It didn't even go to voice mail, simply cut off. He tried a few more times before giving up in frustration. Was Ichigo screening his calls? _What the fuck is going on here?_ Grimmjow opted for a text message. 'Meet me after your shift.' There. Simple and to the point. And it was a demand, not a question.

In the meantime, he could think this over on his own. _Let's review what we know here_. The conversation had almost certainly been about him - not many other people walked around with blue hair, at least none that Ichigo knew. Maybe he'd misheard what had been said. He doubted that. He'd been close enough to hear perfectly clearly, and Ichigo's words left little room for misinterpretation. He took a shuddering breath before shoving the entire topic aside. He'd save it for later, after they'd talked.

Grimmjow was about to turn the car around, head back towards the store when his phone buzzed.

'Can't. Busy.' was all the text said. Grimmjow rolled down his window and threw his phone out of the car. It made one _very_ unsatisfying bounce on the freeway before coming to rest on the side of the road. He snarled in anger, stepping on the pedal and picking up speed. _I fucking dare someone to try and arrest me right now_, he thought venomously, almost looking forward to the thought. He could beat up the cop, then beat up some inmates, maybe beat up his fucking lawyer if they gave him one. Anything to take his mind off what he'd just heard. He kept driving.

No one tried to arrest him. Grimmjow drove aimlessly, barely registering the buildings flash by. Somehow or other, he found himself sitting at a bar he used to visit. He'd stopped coming around as often once he'd found a better place to spend his time. Namely, Ichigo's apartment.

God, he hated himself sometimes. His mind just _insisted_ on constantly bringing the man up, insisted on dredging up images of him, insisted on replaying the sound of his laughter over and over again until Grimmjow thought he might snap. He drained another glass of whiskey. How many glasses was that, ten? Eleven?

He couldn't remember. The bartender had started making noises a couple of drinks ago, but Grimmjow had shot him such an evil glare that the poor man almost pissed himself. There was no doubt the man knew who he was. A lot of shady people gathered at this bar, and Grimmjow was one of the most dangerous ones there. Especially in this mood.

He wanted a cigarette. Grimmjow patted himself down, but he didn't have a pack. He'd stopped carrying any on him, ever since…he forced himself to cut off that train of thought.

_Ever since Ichigo said he didn't like it, _his brain insisted on finishing.

_Well, fuck Ichigo_, he decided as he turned to the person next to him. "Got a smoke?" he managed to slur out.

The man obliged, handing over a cigarette and lighting it up for him. "You doing all right there, buddy?" he asked.

Grimmjow scowled. He looked so pathetic, even complete strangers were taking pity on him. "No, but fuck off anyways." He wasn't in the mood for charity, even if he _had_ just bummed a cigarette off the man. The stranger huffed and turned back towards the front of the bar.

_Ichigo wouldn't approve of that, _his traitorous brain brought up. Ichigo was always friendly to strangers, every bit as engaging and open as Grimmjow was surly and rude. _Well fuck, if I'm just going to sit here thinking about him I might as well address the actual problem_.

He was just someone Ichigo went to for sex sometimes, nothing more. And could he really argue with that? Ichigo didn't owe him anything more, had never made any promises or said anything to the contrary. He'd even flat out told him, that time at the night club. _I don't belong to anyone_.

This was something Grimmjow should have expected, realized for himself before he was suddenly blindsided by it.

The signs had always been there. Normal people in normal relationships didn't have sex on the first date and expect anything long term. They didn't disappear for two weeks and come back acting like nothing had happened. Normal people wanted to know what you did for a living, what you were up to when you left for several days with no explanation.

Grimmjow suddenly remembered all the effort he'd gone to, contacting Central, ferreting out their supposed cover story, convincing the operator that for some reason it was of _critical importance_ that he, an underground worker, know the public face of the company...none of it had ever even come up in conversation. Grimmjow hadn't volunteered it, but he'd kept it in mind, expectantly waiting for Ichigo to just ask. He never did.

It was as simple as that. People in a real relationship cared. Ichigo didn't.

What had he been expecting, anyways? He'd never kept anyone around for precisely that reason - people asked too many questions, became too possessive of how he spent his time, got scared if they discovered the truth.

But it was fine, because he didn't care either. This was just an extended fling. Except instead of multiple people, there was only one. Same thing, really.

Marginally successful in convincing himself of this conclusion, Grimmjow decided that there was nothing to really worry about. Ichigo had simply pegged their relationship for what it was - sexual, nothing more. Right.

He should tell Ichigo that, inform him that he'd reached the same conclusion, that he wholeheartedly agreed with his statement.

Maybe saying the words out loud would make them true.

Grimmjow threw down some money and staggered out the door.

* * *

He was pulling up to Ichigo's apartment just as the door opened. Grimmjow was pleasantly surprised for an instant, thinking that Ichigo had heard his car engine and gone to greet him. Then a dark-haired man with square glasses and a pale face had walked out instead.

Grimmjow watched as the man turned, as if called back by something. He watched as Ichigo warmly embraced the other man, pulling him close before letting him leave, a faint smile on his face. The rationale he'd so carefully prepared instantly crumbled, replaced with an ugly black swarm of memories.

_"He's nothing, just a fuckbuddy."_

_"Someone like him could never serve any other purpose."_

There had been such a cold, disinterested tone in Ichigo's voice.

_"Don't you dare cheat on me, okay?"_

_ …"I promise."_

He swatted violently at the air around him, knowing he probably looked ridiculous but trying to wave away the cruel words all the same. Snarling, he clawed his way out of the car and stumbled towards Ichigo's apartment.

Grimmjow battered the door mercilessly, kicking and hitting the thick wood over and over. Ichigo's voice echoed from the other side, muffled by the wood. "Ishida?"

_Who the fuck is that_? The name only infuriated Grimmjow more. He pummeled the door even harder before it suddenly swung open. He found himself staring into a pair of concerned brown eyes.

* * *

_12:03 PM_

Ichigo took a step back in surprise. "What the hell? What are you doing here, Grimm? Is everything all right?" his hand automatically reached forward to pull Grimmjow inside.

Grimmjow swatted his hand away, keeping Ichigo at a distance. "No, everything is _not_ all right! Things are not fucking okay! Was _he_ what you were so _busy_ with? All this time you've been going around, fucking other people whenever I leave? I come back early _one time_ and this is what I fucking get! 'I never lie.' 'I won't cheat.' _Bullshit!_" he spat. He glared at Ichigo, but there was another part of him that looked at the orange head almost pleadingly, begging him to defend himself, to explain.

Ichigo winced, drew back. This confrontation was the last thing he'd wanted, a fight with Grimmjow only hours before he fled the country. _Without him_, he reminded himself, the thought causing his heart to constrict a little. Grimmjow's words stung, and he wanted nothing more than to deny them, to curl up in Grimmjow's arms and pretend that none of this was happening.

But he couldn't. Maybe this was for the best, a way to get some closure - for Grimmjow, at least. At least he wouldn't simply be left alone in an empty apartment, waiting as days turned into weeks and finally years, wondering if Ichigo would ever return. Whether their careless goodbye two days ago had been the last they'd ever see of each other. It was too cruel, just disappearing without a trace.

No, this was much better. This way Grimmjow would dump him, break up with a lying, cheating scumbag and move on. And Ichigo…he'd do the same. Move on. _This is for the best_, he decided.

The mask slid into place. It was far too hard without detaching himself. This was just another case, Grimmjow just another person he had to lie to in order to achieve his goal. "You're right. I cheated on you every time you weren't around." He spoke quietly, but he said the words slowly and clearly. He didn't want to say them again.

Grimmjow had never seen such a look on Ichigo's face - every bit as cold and detached as his voice had been in the convenience store. He looked into Ichigo's eyes, and saw nothing. None of the characteristic warmth. Nothing but mechanical calculation and dispassionate restraint. It chilled him to the bone.

How could Ichigo be staring so calmly at him while his entire world was going to hell?

Some part of him still didn't believe it, didn't want to accept that Ichigo would betray him like this, but the words were inescapable. The anger bubbled up again. Why wasn't Ichigo more _upset_? Was Grimmjow really nothing more than someone - one of _many_, apparently - that he went to for sex? He couldn't take it. He took a violent swing at Ichigo's head, vaguely surprised when it managed to connect and sent the younger man staggering into the nearby wall. He had almost expected Ichigo to dodge, to get out of the way or at least shield himself.

He almost instinctively apologized before remembering why he'd punched him in the first place. Ichigo didn't say anything else, just looked at him with that same _infuriating_ look, the one that said this conversation was nothing, that their relationship was nothing, that Grimmjow was nothing.

Something in him snapped. He didn't throw any more physical punches, but he was absolutely relentless verbally. He shouted obscenities until his throat was sore, screamed profanities and every insult he knew. Yelled about how much he _hated_ Ichigo, how he wished they'd never met, how he wished that fucking hobo had killed him after all.

Ichigo just stood there through all of it, head lowered, eyes staring unflinchingly ahead, barely even acknowledging Grimmjow's presence as he shouted himself into silence.

Grimmjow didn't remember much after that; the ridiculous amount of alcohol he'd drank must have finally overwhelmed him.

* * *

It felt like a million years had passed since Grimmjow had started yelling. Ichigo simply let him go on, every new phrase feeling like the lash from a whip against his skin. Just when he thought he couldn't take it anymore, when even his mask would shatter and he'd simply give up and curl into a ball on the floor, Grimmjow stopped.

So now Ichigo was sitting numbly on the couch, trying to convince himself that he didn't care. Grimmjow was just the most recent in a long string of boyfriends, someone he'd picked up because he liked sex and he liked what he saw and he didn't have any other requirements beyond that. He just liked physical contact, and Grimmjow was just another warm body, that was all.

He believed it, he really did. He believed it because this was the end, because he had to leave and Grimmjow had to stay. He believed because if he didn't, he would never be able to go. He believed it, because he had his mask and it made him invincible, untouchable, emotionless, because he could lie to anyone, even himself when he had it on. He really believed it.

.

.

.

So why couldn't he stop the tears from streaming down his face?


	12. Hostage

He let the tears fall freely now. It didn't really matter anyways, with no one there to see his weakness. It would be better to let all the emotions run loose now, rather than later. He could afford to be indecisive now if it meant he would have a clear mind during their departure.

The apartment was a mess. His possessions were scattered everywhere, several floorboards were missing, and there was a large crack in one of the walls. But he was in no mood to clean up, so he just left things as they were.

_One last look and I'll be gone. _He pushed open the bedroom door, walked quietly up to the bed and gazed down at Grimmjow's slumbering form. The blunette had been dead drunk, and probably wouldn't wake up for hours after he'd left. Even in sleep Grimmjow's face was twisted into a deep scowl, a faint look of pain etched into his features.

His hand reached out, and he brushed back a few strands of hair from the blunette's forehead. "I'm sorry, I thought I was doing the right thing. For both of us. But I just ended up hurting you instead. Maybe it's better this way, I'll disappear and Aizen will leave you alone, and we'll just go our separate ways. You'll be fine without me, I'm sure of it. We'll see each other again in another lifetime, ne?" He trailed his hand lightly down the side of Grimmjow's face one last time. "Goodbye, Grimm," he whispered, then turned his back and left.

* * *

"You're early," Ishida remarked as he noticed Ichigo walking towards him, a black duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

The new arrival shrugged. "Not much else to do. Thought I'd do a quick perimeter check, in case Aizen's up to something." He tugged the duffel bag off and dropped it with a thump at Ishida's feet. "Driver?"

"He'll be here on time. He's an idiot, but he should get _at least_ that much right." The corners of Ichigo's mouth twitched up slightly at Ishida's disdainful remark. He was about to reply when he saw a moving figure in the corner of his eye.

His hands immediately twitched towards the revolver he'd jammed into the seat of his pants. "Someone by the playscape. I'll check it out." He made a sharp turn toward a nearby clump of trees, using them for cover as he quickly made his way toward the stranger. There was a rustle in one of the trees above him, and he dove behind a trunk just in time to see a projectile bury itself into the ground where he'd stood only moments before.

He drew the revolver, flipped the safety, and fired off a shot in a single fluid motion. The shooter fell from the tree, hitting the ground with a thud. The projectile wasn't a bullet - it was slow, its movement still detectable by the human eye. That, combined with the slight rustle had been enough to pinpoint the attacker's location. There'd been no time for calculation or thought. It was instinct - pure, simple and savage.

Running now, Ichigo dashed through the trees toward the playscape. He saw the person who'd initially caught his attention backpedal frantically, lift some sort of communicator to his mouth. But it was too late - he was already within range. Another shot, another body. The man hadn't even tried to evade. _Professionals, but not very high caliber_, he thought with a note of surprise. He thought Aizen's people would have been better.

Pausing before he exited the woods, Ichigo glanced quickly around the area, making sure this time to look through the treetops. Ishida had picked the park for a reason - they'd been using it as a rendezvous point for years, and both were familiar with every inch of the place. If there was a firefight here, they'd be at a clear advantage. He made a loop around to both of the bodies and frisked them for anything useful.

A tranquilizer gun and a radio device on each. _Aizen wants me alive_, he realized with a chill as he jogged back to where he'd left Ishida. He found him standing next to a large van, scowling as he examined a body sprawled out a few feet away from the vehicle.

"I got two of them, didn't see anyone else from where I was. What happened to him?" Ichigo asked, pointing at the man on the ground.

Ishida glared. "He was _going_ to be a possible source of information, until _this idiot_ ran him over," he said as he gestured angrily at a red-haired man with an equally large scowl on his face.

"I already told you, I thought you needed help! How was _I _supposed to know you'd already disarmed him, you asshole?" The man shot back.

"Maybe because I'd already taken the weapon from him and _his hands were up in the air!_" Ishida shouted as he stalked towards the back of the van and got in. Ichigo followed him in, grinning as he watched the two bicker. It was rare to see Ishida ever raise his voice, but Renji could always provoke him without even trying.

He'd only just strapped himself in when Renji stomped on the pedal and the van screeched forward. "So Aizen's not going to just let us leave, after all." He tossed the things he'd collected over to Ishida, who frowned.

"Why is he trying so hard to capture you, if you're clearly not going to work for him?" Ishida tightened his grip on the armrests as the van suddenly swerved to the left, sending various things crashing against the wall. Behind them, there was a loud crash and several sirens were going off.

Ichigo shrugged. "Doesn't matter, if he can't actually get to us. Besides, it just makes it easier if his people can't shoot to kill." A sharp bump in the road caused him to lurch forward, smacking his head against the seat in front of him. "Goddammit Renji, what the hell happened to the last car? I liked that one!" He thought wistfully about the four-seater hummer he'd been in last time during a getaway. The seats were nicer, he hadn't been jostled nearly as much, and he could shoot out of the windows if he needed.

The redhead shrugged. "I did too, but I had to dump it after a description got put out on the police scanner. And Ishida was the one who insisted on this - an unmarked white van. So don't blame me, he's the master mind here."

Something told Ichigo that Renji's last few words had been more sarcastic than anything else, but Ishida preened a little before explaining. "At this very moment, there are five other vans departing from various other locations around the park, identical down to the license plate. Hardly foolproof, but it should make things somewhat more difficult for Aizen to track us down. There are various other contingencies of course, but they haven't become necessary yet. And _that_ is why I'm the one planning these, not _Renji_."

The driver waved off the words. "Yeah, whatever. I'm still the best in the business, and you know it."

Ishida rolled his eyes. "That's only because you don't need an IQ any higher than 65 to - " He was cut off as the radio in his hand suddenly buzzed, drawing his attention.

"Shiro, can you hear me?" The voice was unmistakeable, even through the static. Ishida paused, then wordlessly handed the radio over to the van's other passenger.

Ichigo was surprisingly calm, given the circumstances. _That's because you have nothing left to lose_, a voice spoke up. He ignored it. "You promised me three days."

"And you promised to _think it over_. I never said I would give you a three-day head start if you chose to flee," the voice on the radio replied coldly.

Ichigo forced out a laugh. "Doesn't matter, turns out we didn't even need one. Good luck finding me again in South America." He shouldn't have taunted him, he really shouldn't have, but there was so much resentment and hatred he couldn't help it.

Aizen's next words came slowly, with barely concealed wrath. "I will concede I underestimated you. I hadn't realized your operator was still here; you certainly couldn't have done this alone. I'll commend the use of the police road blocks, that was something we didn't expect." Ichigo glanced briefly at Ishida, who was looking rather smug at the moment. "And as most of our resources are wrapped up in another operation at the moment, I'm afraid I don't have the manpower to pin you down if you don't want to stay. Well, I suppose the consolation prize isn't so bad…" he trailed off into silence, but the menace in his voice cut through the static, hanging over their heads.

Ichigo's hand was trembling a little as he brought the radio back toward his face. He shouldn't speak again, didn't want to know the answer, knew he would regret asking, but there still was an irresistibly morbid curiosity. "What consolation prize?"

Aizen's voice was jovial now, cheery but hardened with a cruel edge. "It's Mr. Jaegerjaquez, of course. Your blue-haired friend, the one you _certainly_ don't care about at all. I'm sure I will _very much enjoy_ torturing him within an inch of his life. I'd go into detail, but you're probably quite busy at the moment. I hope you kept that phone I gave you, I'll text you some pictures once you're in South America. Maybe if you give me an address I'll ship you his severed head. I've heard that the drug rings down there do things like that."

The words struck Ichigo like an anvil, knocking the breath out of him as his chest knotted in panic. Aizen knew about Grimmjow. That question at the store - it'd been a test, to gauge his reaction. He'd failed somehow, slipped up somewhere because now he'd given Aizen the ultimate trump card. _That's why he gave me three days, why he didn't send everyone after me. Why should he bother when he's already got what he needs?_ Grimmjow was defenseless, vulnerable, probably still sleeping in the abandoned apartment. Grimmjow had gotten the death sentence as soon as Ichigo had decided to leave.

No. He couldn't do it. He couldn't leave Grimmjow behind, not if this was his fate. When he'd made this decision, left the apartment that morning, he'd convinced himself that the blunette would be better off, would move on eventually, would still have a _life_ to live, with or without him.

He could leave Grimmjow behind to some obscure, ambiguous future, but he couldn't leave Grimmjow behind to die. _What have I done?_

Despair filled him, and he wrestled with it for a few moments before succumbing. He didn't know what to do, he couldn't just leave but his thoughts were panicked and jumbled, and he couldn't make sense of any of it and -

The radio suddenly buzzed once more, and Aizen was talking again. "Let's make a deal. _I_ am in the middle of a very complicated operation, and desperately need someone competent. _You_ will perform twelve missions, as a replacement for my twelve executioners that you killed during your last escape. In return for your services, I will graciously allow you to leave, and I will not harm Mr. Jaggerjaquez. If you cross me, I will personally torture and kill every single person you have ever met in the last six years." The line clicked ominously, and silence filled the van.

"Stop the car." Renji turned around, startled, but he kept his foot on the accelerator. "Stop the car, or I'll jump out the fucking window!" Ichigo shouted as he tore off his seatbelt. Renji cursed and pulled the van over onto the side of the highway.

Ishida was standing over him in a flash, pushing Ichigo back against his seat. "You have exactly ten seconds to get out of the way, or so help me I will do it myself," Ichigo snarled.

"Just listen. I'm coming with you," was all Ishida said. Ichigo let his jaw drop open for an instant, surprise taking over the helpless rage and desperation.

He was touched, and grateful, but he knew he couldn't take the offer. The words were hard to articulate, but he knew he had to say them. "No, you aren't. This isn't your fight, I did this to myself. The risk I'm taking is for me, because I'm selfish and stupid and I'm sealing my fate for someone I met less than a year ago. I don't want to drag you into this, absolutely can't. Not even if you're volunteering. I couldn't take it if I got you killed, too." He took a shuddering breath. "Don't come back for me, all right? Promise me."

Ishida was silent for a long while. Then he finally relented with a sigh, stepping out of the van before turning to face Ichigo. "I understand. So…this is goodbye, then? I never thought I would be saying it to you someday."

Ichigo grabbed his duffel bag and followed him out. He nodded, sorrowful but resolute. "Yeah, I guess this is goodbye. Thanks for…well, everything." The two shared a final glance, then Ishida got back into the van.

There was nothing else to say.

* * *

**A/N: Hey all, so sorry for the slow update! I swear, I've actually gone through like FIVE alternate endings for this chapter, two of which significantly changed the rest of the plot. And I'd already written two different drafts before that, but it just didn't ****_feel_**** right. Grimmjow was way too OOC in several of them, even for me. But yeah, PM or leave a review if you're interested in knowing about the original!**

**Thanks again for all the reviews, and please let me know what you think about this chapter! I am a little bit conflicted.**


	13. Separation

"I'm coming back, Aizen. That deal, I'm taking it. You win, okay? You win. But touch him and I'll hunt you down, even if it takes me a thousand lifetimes," Ichigo said, fighting to keep the desperation out of his voice.

The radio was silent for so long that he feared he'd already been too late, that the offer had expired. But then he heard a brief laugh, and Aizen spoke again. "Very well, someone will be along shortly to pick you up. Don't kill this one, if you can help it. He'll be escorting you to our temporary headquarters."

Ichigo breathed a short sigh of relief before he registered the words. "What do you mean, headquarters? I'll be at my apartment - I'm sure you know where that is by now," he said, with a faint bite of sarcasm. A feeling of unease washed over him as he stood on the shoulder of the highway, waiting for a response.

Another burst of static. "Oh my dear, dear Shiro, you couldn't _possibly_ expect me to simply let you do as you pleased? No, as long as you're on these missions you are _mine_. And stop chattering away, I have other matters to attend to." There was a loud _crack_ on the other end, and the radio went dead.

* * *

It'd been thirteen days since he'd last seen Ichigo. Not that he was counting or anything.

The sun had been high in the sky by the time Grimmjow woke up that fateful day, head pounding with a throbbing hangover and aching all over. He'd dragged himself straight out the door and staggered into his car, returning to his own apartment to lick his wounds. It was cowardly and a little pathetic, but if he hadn't left _right then_ who knew what he would've done. Probably forgiven Ichigo right then and there, spat on the last of his dignity and gutted the remains of his pride.

His apartment was a refuge, a safe haven. Ichigo had never stopped by much - he knew where it was, but as far as Grimmjow remembered he'd never even stayed over. There'd been no reason to, when Grimmjow was always the one running over to Ichigo's place. So there was no trace of Ichigo here, no painful memories that would be dredged up everywhere he turned. That was good, because he didn't want to be reminded of it. Any of it.

He wasn't some fucking pushover that would chase after a goddamn cheater. If it was over, then _fine_. Things were better this way. Now he could do whatever he wanted without a fucking chain around his neck. He could wake up at three in the afternoon if he felt like it, and no one would be there to shout at him. He could eat cold pizza all week and lounge around doing nothing, without anyone looking at him in disapproval. And he could go anywhere he wanted, as long as he wanted, without having to report in first. Because now there was no one waiting at home to worry about him.

Yeah, things were definitely better this way.

* * *

Ichigo stepped into the tiny little shower stall and turned on the water with a long sigh. He stood unmoving under the torrent for a while, letting the water rush down his body and wash away the blood and dirt. The warm water felt amazing, after he'd been running around outside all day. _Seven down, five to go._

He'd stood on the highway for forty-five minutes before a car had finally arrived for him. That was good, he supposed. It meant that Aizen was lagging far behind Ishida and Renji. Their escape would have gone perfectly, if he had actually gone through with it. But maybe that was only because Aizen knew that Ichigo wouldn't be able to leave. But then Ishida's other contingencies would have come into play...he gave up, dropping that particular thread of thought. Too abstract, too speculative, and it didn't help him at all while he was trapped here at Aizen's complex.

The mission hadn't been particularly difficult, although Ichigo could see why Aizen had assigned it to him. It was a classic, the type of operation he specialized in. He'd had to travel out of the city to track down a renegade supplier and "persuade" him to join Aizen's organization. Easy. Ichigo had read him like a book, knew exactly what buttons to push, which threats to make. And it was amazing how willingly people listened when there was a gun pointed at their head.

When he'd first set foot in the new headquarters, he'd been hit with a wave of memories. It looked exactly the same as the place he'd spent his childhood in - blank, empty, soulless. _Shinigami_ - that was the organization's name. 'Death god', in Japanese. Aizen was always _so_ melodramatic. And no one was really sure why he'd chosen Japanese names, either. It had been a popular subject of quiet gossip; the most widespread rumor was that Aizen had fallen in love with a Japanese woman who had later been killed in a gang dispute. Another more frivolous one was that he had a secret obsession with origami. Then Aizen had caught wind of one of the speculations and confined the unfortunate storyteller to a month in the isolation chamber. No one talked about it after that.

It would have been much more practical to operate under several aliases, or a puppet company, but you couldn't leave a legacy if the name always changed. And Aizen wanted more than power - he wanted an empire. Arrogance, that had always been Aizen's driving force. He ran the organization with an iron fist, through fear, ruthlessness, and cruelty. He demanded undying devotion - anything less was a personal affront. But he could only control their bodies; he had never managed to crush their souls. They worked for him, but they didn't love him.

There'd been some changes to the Shinigami since Ichigo had left. For one, agents were given much shorter rein during assignments, and were often put into random pairs with one another. Each received instructions to shoot the other without hesitation, were they to show any indication of disloyalty. The group was smaller, as well - from what he'd been able to gather, Aizen had taken control of most of the underground in the southeastern U.S., then gotten restless and decided to expand. He'd taken only a small skeleton group with him to his new headquarters in the northeast, leaving behind the majority of his force to run matters back south.

They'd also discontinued the practice of raising agents from childhood. Probably realized it was far too resource-intensive, given the payoff. Previously, Aizen had gone around picking up street rats and runaways, kids that had fallen off the state's radar. The training process was brutal, and few of the children ever survived to become successful agents. And then the ones that _had_ been successful turned out to be just as traitorous and untrustworthy as any newly hired mercenary. Funny things, human beings - they tended to dislike you if you treated them cruelly.

Ichigo strongly suspected he and Ishida's escape had played a large factor in the decision to stop training. Every single agent they killed had cost the organization more than a decade of discipline, instruction, and resources. An entire generation wiped out in a single night. _Aizen must have been furious,_ he thought with a vicious satisfaction.

Still, a body count of twelve was far too high, even counting himself and Ishida. He'd been on good terms with most of the agents, as companions if not friends. They'd developed a bit of solidarity after suffering through so many years of hardship together. Ichigo was the best out of them all, but even he couldn't have taken on twelve of the most elite executioners simultaneously. On the night of their escape, half of the agents had either surrendered or simply shot a few halfhearted, poorly aimed bullets before calling it a day. He hadn't killed _twelve_ of them, he was sure of it. But it was the number Aizen had set, and the number he'd agreed to. And at this rate, it was only a matter of time before he'd be done.

The missions themselves were more than tolerable. Fun, even. It was just like the old days; surveillance operations, information gathering, and good old-fashioned murder. He could get two or three missions done in a single day, whenever Aizen gave him several at once. Better than sitting in a blank white room with nothing to do but sleep or stare at the ceiling. He hated his new room here, hated the boredom and the thoughts that his mind would inevitably turn to whenever it had a chance.

He didn't want to think about Grimmjow, didn't want to dwell on their parting or wonder whether he'd ever see him again. Did it even matter that he'd stayed? He'd already broken Grimmjow's trust, lied to his face and destroyed their relationship, probably permanently...he shook his head, and banished the thought from his mind.

Ichigo was far too happy when his next order arrived. It was a little discomforting how easily Aizen could control him sometimes, to make him look _forward _to serving him. He was falling back into his old habits, his old routine; that was what this infuriatingly blank room had done to him, made him crave any form of stimulation or excitement, no matter what form.

_I hate Aizen. I hate the Shinigami. I hate Aizen_. The words came easily to mind, even after so many years. That was the mantra he'd developed, the credo he had repeated to himself over and over during the time they'd planned their escape. It was hard sometimes, reminding himself of that fact. He loved the missions, but hated his status. He hated how Aizen looked at him like he was some prized possession, hated the dehumanizing name he'd been forced to use for so many years. _Shiro_. It wasn't even a name, just a label, at least the way Aizen said it. Like they were tools, color-coded for his convenience.

It was another method of control, an attempt to break his spirit. Well, it hadn't worked the first time and it wouldn't work the second. He'd bow his head, submit himself to the chains - but only until his twelve missions were up. He could suffer through a few more weeks of slavery, if it meant Grimmjow's life.

* * *

Grimmjow had put off the laundry for too long. He was already out of clean shirts, and was on his last pair of pants. He briefly contemplated driving over to work just to steal some clothes, then decided it wasn't worth the effort. Maybe he'd find something if he just dug around a bit…he rummaged through his closet for a while, pushing aside piles of messy clothes. After a minute or two of fruitless searching he was about to give up, when he saw a swatch of dark green material poking out from under a stack he'd overlooked.

It was Ichigo's, the one that Grimmjow had borrowed back when they first met. Something in his chest twisted painfully as he pulled out the shirt and held it in his hands. The air stirred a little as he moved, and for an instant he thought he could detect a faint, familiar scent that reminded him of the orange-haired man.

_Shit_. He stared at the t-shirt for another long moment, hands clenching tightly in the fabric before he turned and tossed it onto a table. Searching around for his car keys, he decided that he'd make one last visit. Just to return the shirt, so it wouldn't be floating around in his closet forever, waiting to ambush him. Just one last visit, that was all.

* * *

They were staking out a warehouse this time. Mission number eight - surveillance and execution. Don't let anyone get away.

Ichigo had been assigned a partner this time. _Midori,_ was what Aizen had named her. Ichigo remembered her - slender, with short black hair and two braids hanging down her back, face constantly drawn into an angry scowl - she had been taken in a couple of years after him, and had gone through the same training regimen. She was one of the last surviving agents that had been raised as a child. He didn't remember her as particularly extraordinary out of their group, but he was sure she'd still be highly proficient. You didn't make it through the training if you were only competent or slightly above average.

The majority of the drive to their destination was spent in silence. He had never really known her very well, since he'd already become a full-fledged executioner by the time she was brought in. A question suddenly rose to mind, and he turned in his seat to ask it. "Hey, Midori - you're one of the people Aizen brought to this new HQ, right? How are the others doing, the ones down south? Murasaki, Kiro, those people? I - well, I haven't really kept in touch, you know..." The poor attempt at humor fell flat and the girl simply turned to look at him for a moment before shifting back towards the front. Ichigo frowned a little. He didn't care much if things got awkward, but her unwillingness to answer was somewhat troubling. What had that look been? Anger, resentment...fear? That couldn't have been right. He'd never been very good at reading any of Aizen's executioners. They didn't react to things like normal people did.

Midori was good behind the wheel, though - hands firm, steering naturally with the dips and curves in the road. He was glad he'd been partnered with her, even if she was refusing to talk to him. It was a bit embarrassing, but he was actually a dreadful driver. Not terrible enough to fail a driving test, but bad enough that he was grateful someone else would be handling their getaway if something went wrong.

The car rolled to a stop and they got out quietly, taking care not to make any excessive noise. Ichigo realized with some surprise that he'd been here before. This exact street, this exact warehouse. It was the same place he'd gone to collect the mole that the client called 'Central' had hired him to take out. _It's a turf war_, he realized. When Aizen had expanded into the north, the Shinigami must have come into conflict with the existing group controlling the area. The 'complicated operation' that Aizen was talking about must have been this take-down of Central, then.

It made Ichigo a little uneasy. Working against former clients was bad luck. Freelancers that got a reputation for turning on previous employers usually didn't last very long in the business. He felt a little bad, especially since Central had paid him so well. Their mission had been a lot of fun, too.

He brooded for a little while as they drew closer to the warehouse, then shrugged. Not like he had a choice - and it would make surveillance simpler since he'd already been inside once. Aizen's mission was actually much easier than the one he'd done for Central - this time around, he wasn't on as much of a deadline, and he even had a partner. _Easy._

* * *

Grimmjow knocked on the door once, and waited for a few seconds. Nothing. Then he knocked again, a little more impatiently. Still nothing.

_I hate this fucking door_, he thought heatedly. But he had a key this time - he'd never ended up returning it. But he would make sure to give it back this time, along with the shirt. Really end things.

Grabbing the knob, he was about to jam the key in the lock when the door suddenly swung in. _It wasn't locked? It's always locked, even when he's home_. Grimmjow felt a sliver of anxiety rise in him, battling with the anger and resentment that was already there.

He walked in, and his heart lurched for a moment. The apartment was a wreck. A large hole was visible in the wall, and books and belongings were strewn everywhere. There was a gaping pit in the floor where several tiles had somehow been ripped up. _What the fuck happened here? _he thought with some panic. _Where was Ichigo, was he all right, had he been hurt?_

Grimmjow opened a mouth to call for him, wanted to tear up the apartment even more looking for him - but then he remembered. What happened to Ichigo wasn't his business anymore. It had stopped being his business the night Ichigo had stood there and confessed his betrayal. He didn't care, he was just here to drop off a t-shirt and his key.

That was what all of his logic and reason concluded, but he still walked over and peered into the pit. Feigning indifference, he stooped to pick up a nondescript plastic box. Flipping open the lid, he reached in and fished out something from inside. Then his eyes widened, and his pulse shot up. _Fuck._

It was a smooth steel cartridge, slightly curved along the palm of his hand. He knew what it was - a high capacity magazine, 100 rounds - he had handled them all the time at the warehouse. But he'd never dreamed he would find one here in Ichigo's apartment, of all places. _What the hell has Ichigo gotten himself into_?

Was this the kind of shit they sold out of that tiny-ass shop? _Illegal-fucking-firearms_? They didn't actually have a license to sell, Grimmjow was sure of it. What the _fuck_ had Ichigo been thinking? Legally owned guns were everywhere in America, so only the most violent and homicidal of criminals bothered to buy them illicitly. You only bought an unlicensed weapon if you were planning to kill someone and didn't want it to be tracked down.

Arms traffickers weren't the kind of people to mess with. How fucking _idiotic_ did Ichigo have to be to not understand that, to try and sell in someone else's territory?

Oh god, this was _his_ territory. Had one of his own people done this? Had someone at his very own warehouse dragged Ichigo out of the apartment, executed him in the parking lot? What if -

_Stop. Stop. Stop it_. So what if they had? Nothing to do with him. It wasn't his job to rescue Ichigo from his own utter stupidity. It wasn't.

Grimmjow turned around quickly and stalked out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

_Not my problem_.

* * *

**A/N: Yay, new chapter! I'll be updating more quickly/frequently now that it's summer and I have more free time :)**

**Looks like most of you didn't mind the direction I took with the last chapter, which is a relief. Thanks for the reviews, they were really helpful!**

**Grimm and Ichi are probably gonna meet by chapter 16 or so. I won't drag on the separation for too long, promise! In the meantime I guess there's a bit of set up for the final event, so bear with me ;)**

**I'm not exactly an expert in criminal matters, so some of this stuff, like about the guns, might have been inaccurate. The Japanese, too - I used google translator for the color names, lol. Corrections and clarifications would be much appreciated!**

**As always, please read and review!**


	14. Premonition

Grimmjow took a long drag of his cigarette, then beckoned at a nearby worker.

"Yo, D-Roy. Come over here, will ya?" The worker started at the mention of his name, then looked over at him. "Hurry up, I'm not getting any younger here," he snapped when the blond tripped over a box of ammunition as he scurried over.

"Take a look at this," he said as he handed over the magazine cartridge he'd picked up from Ichigo's apartment. It wasn't like he was looking for Ichigo or anything. If there was a competitor in the region then the organization should know about it. Right, he had a valid business interest in this. "Find out the original manufacturer, who shipped it in, who's trying to distribute it, whatever you can. I know it's not much to go off of, but report back anything you find ASAP. I'm going to be in the lounge, if anyone needs me." He walked off a few paces, then paused. "And clean up that shit you just knocked over, too."

* * *

Mission number eight was proceeding smoothly. It really was easier pulling jobs with a reliable partner. Even though he'd never worked with Midori before, they fell into a perfect synchronization. She was usually silent and withdrawn, but was quick and effective whenever communication was needed. Shift changes happened effortlessly, they covered each other's blind spots, and finished up surveillance in only half the time he'd expected. _It's because we've all been trained to act in exactly the same way_, he finally realized.

The revelation was accompanied by more than a little bitterness. He worked well with Midori because she was almost a carbon copy of any one of the last few partners he'd had throughout the years. Skill-levels and personalities were different, to be sure, but the fundamentals were all the same. _Tools are more useful when they have interchangeable parts._

He swallowed his annoyance so he could focus on the situation at hand, just in time to see the person they'd been waiting for. It had taken a day to work out the warehouse's schedule, then one more to verify that it stayed constant. Three shift changes a day, eight hours each, and the place stayed open twenty-four hours.

They'd decided to strike during the middle of the second shift, then pick off the workers from the next shift as they came in. Twelve hours later and they'd wiped out every employee that had set foot in the building. Except this last one, who had shown up late to his shift.

The straggler never stood a chance. Ichigo almost felt sorry for him. Through the lens of the sniper rifle, he could see the man's every emotion as he stepped into the empty warehouse - confusion, then consternation, and finally open fear when he saw the bloodstained floor. Two shots rang out, breaking the the eerie silence - one in the head, the other in the heart. The man collapsed to the floor without a sound.

Ichigo patted the rifle fondly as he started packing up. Guns were by far his favorite weapon - compact, powerful, and deadly. Far more effective than a knife, and less cumbersome than the bow and arrow that some of his fellow executioners had favored. They all had their preferences, but every single agent that made it through the training was an expert in all of them. It afforded them extra adaptability in a wide variety of situations, and made them twice as lethal.

He climbed down nimbly from his perch on the roof, standing in the center of the warehouse to survey the aftermath. Definitely not as fun as the job he'd pulled for Central - at least those people had put up a fight. And there'd been more of them, too - this place seemed like a ghost town compared to the last warehouse he'd raided. Striding over to a nearby crate, he pried the top off and peered inside. Midori stood a few feet away and watched as he pulled out a rifle for closer examination. The orangette clicked his tongue appreciatively at the weapon, holding it out for his partner to see. She frowned, and shook her head.

"Aw c'mon, these are really nice! You sure you don't want one? It's not like they're going to miss 'em," Ichigo prodded, but Midori simply crossed her arms. He gave up and returned to his rummaging. This kind of looting wasn't usually a habit of his, but Aizen had taken away all of his belongings - his bulletproof vest, his guns, his ammunition - for 'safekeeping'. Ichigo half-suspected Aizen _wanted_ him to fail, given how stingy he was being with supplies. On the last mission, he'd only been issued a single handgun; the sniper rifle he'd gotten this time was already a huge upgrade.

He had mixed feelings about the status of his weapons stash. On the one hand, it made his missions a lot more exciting - there would've been no challenge at all if he'd been using his own gear. But he still resented the hell out of Aizen for taking his things away. Plus, the lack of a vest and at _least_ two hidden weapons was making him nervous. Ishida had always packed him an excessive array of supplies, almost to the point of absurdity. And that was exactly how he liked it.

He made his way over to a different crate, then another. In the span of a few minutes' time he'd amassed a nice little pile of stolen goods, and was in the process of putting them on and fastening them to his person when Midori gave a pointed cough. She'd made no move to stop him, but it looked like she was at the end of her patience.

"Fine, fine. Let's clean up the mess and get out of here," he relented. Shoving a lock pick and torsion wrench into the seam of his shoe, he stood up and turned around. He'd already taken what he wanted, and he was actually looking forward to this next part as well. Cleaning up was usually a tiring and tedious affair, but only when there was a need for discretion. That wasn't the case here. Aizen had specifically wanted the deaths to be as dramatic and impressive as possible, and Ichigo was pretty sure he knew exactly the way to do it - fire, gasoline, and just a dash of C4, for the flair.

Fifteen minutes later, Midori sent a sideways glance at him as their car screeched out into the empty street. "You're a crazy motherfucker," she said. He grinned back at her. Two blocks away, Warehouse 4 exploded into a brilliant fireball as everything inside went up in flames.

* * *

_"Hey. Hey! Wake up, Grimm. Wake up!" _

_His eyelids fluttered open and he saw a pair of warm brown eyes peering back at him._

_Grimmjow's mouth fell open. "Ichi…what're you doing here? What's going on, how did we…" He trailed off as the question floated away from his grasp. The room was brightly lit, inviting and cheerful. He was stretched out face-up in bed, nose only a few inches away from Ichigo's. The orange-haired man was sprawled halfway across his chest, elbows on either side of Grimmjow's ribs. Ichigo's hands rubbed soothingly at Grimmjow's shoulders, kneading away the tension._

_"What are you talking about? Bad dreams again?" Ichigo looked at him a little anxiously. "Don't worry too much, all right? Because you're awake now." He leaned his head in and gave Grimmjow a playful nip on the ear. "See? If you get hurt in a dream, you wake up."_

_Grimmjow blinked. Was that all it was, a bad dream? The conversation, their __fight…the memories were already fading away, slipping away from him into the darkness. Had it really been nothing but a dream? It all seemed so real at the time._

_But so did this, and this was much better. Relief flooded through him, and he let out a long, drawn-out sigh."Yeah, just a dream I guess. The worst." He suddenly drew an arm across Ichigo's back and pulled him down so their lips met, savoring the moment. Ichigo seemed surprised for a second, then smiled into the kiss. It should've been a happy moment, but for some reason Grimmjow felt like his heart was breaking._

_A voice whispered cruelly in the recesses of his mind. "You'll never know how precious something is until you've lost it."_

_He clutched his lover fiercely against him, as if to ward off the voice. Ichigo fidgeted a little, but made no move to get up. "Let's just stay like this for a bit, okay? Don't leave," Grimmjow found himself murmuring._

_The orangette ran his fingers through Grimmjow's hair in a comforting, steady stroke as he placed his other hand against the blunette's jaw, tilting it so they were looking directly into each other's eyes. "What are you so worried about? I'm yours, Grimm. I'll never leave. Where else would I go?" He nestled himself more firmly into Grimmjow's embrace, and they stayed like that until both drifted back into sleep._

_The scene shifted._

_They were in a dark, empty street. The rain was pouring down in torrents, soaking into Grimmjow's skin and chilling him down the bone, but he didn't notice. He was too busy clutching frantically at the dying man in his arms. Ichigo smiled weakly up at him, chest heaving as he struggled for breath, but they both knew it was far too late. There was a gaping wound directly in the center of the orangette's torso, a literal hole so wide that Grimmjow could have shoved his hand through it._

_The blunette gave him a violent shake, far too hard but he didn't know what else to do, couldn't think of a single thing that would fix this, that would save Ichigo. He tried to speak, to comfort Ichigo in his last moments, but all he managed was a choked sob._

_"I'm sorry, Grimm..." Ichigo looked at him one last time, gave him the same look he'd had when he promised that Grimmjow had nothing to worry about, that he was his, that he would never leave. Then he closed his eyes forever._

_A burning, all-consuming anguish tore through Grimmjow, and a blazing hot pain ignited in his heart. He sat there in the dark, empty street, and not even the rain could quench the flames._

When Grimmjow woke up he was in the darkened room of the staff lounge. There was a deep, inexplicable ache in his chest, and his breath came in quick, shallow bursts. He pushed the despair away before it could overwhelm him, threw up a wall to protect himself from his own emotions.

Even his dreams were trying to betray him now.

* * *

Ichigo was almost glad to be back at the Shinigami headquarters. He and Midori had been taking turns sleeping on the hard rooftop of the warehouse for more than two days now. The thought of a soft bed, or any kind of padding really, was all too inviting. Even if it _was_ located in that horrible white prison.

But they'd gotten a call in the middle of the drive back, and he'd been given two more missions. They were just fetch quests - stop at various locations and pick up a couple of packages. It was an almost comically simple task, not the kind of thing you assigned to two of the most elite agents in the organization, but Ichigo wasn't about to complain. If Aizen wanted to waste his last few missions running errands, he was free to do as he liked. _Only two more left to go_, he thought with growing anticipation. The number had etched itself into his brain, and every new mission took him one closer to the goal.

It was a double-edged sword, though. He grew more cautious and wary with every step he took towards the finish line. There was something _wrong_ with these missions, even if he couldn't quite place a finger on it. They weren't as...difficult as he'd been expecting, for one. The way Aizen had brokered the deal made it seem as if he'd truly needed Ichigo for his operation, but some of the jobs he'd been assigned could have been done by almost any of the agents here, even the grunts. He'd done plenty of those tasks before, even when he was the top executioner, but they weren't the kind of jobs you assigned to someone with a limited number of missions left. The suspicion gnawed at him, worried away at him, but there wasn't anything he could _do_ about it. If things came down to it...he needed to work out a game plan, and soon. But right now, all he wanted to do was sleep.

In his haste to return to his room, he rounded a corner a little too quickly and almost crashed into someone approaching from the other side. A normal bystander watching the interaction would have been flabbergasted by the inhumanly fast interaction that followed - Ichigo made a one-handed push off the wall and veered sharply towards his right, while the other man ducked under his outstretched arm and walked forward in a single fluid movement. The entire scene happened in a split second. Ichigo turned around to apologize but the other man didn't acknowledge him at all, walking away as if nothing had even happened.

The orangette frowned as he tried to remember where he'd seen the guy before. _Kuro_, his brain supplied. Yes, that was it - he hadn't seen the executioner for six years, but this man had the same narrow features and sharp eyes, still left his hair in the same messy black spikes. They hadn't been very close. Ichigo had always suspected the man was nursing some kind of secret grudge against him, but he'd never really been sure. He sighed. It would have been nice to see some familiar faces after so long, but none of the agents he'd been on good terms with had been brought over. He only recognized Kuro and Midori, and one of them refused to talk to him while the other hated his guts.

He finally made his way back to his room, but immediately stiffened in the doorway when he realized there were people already inside.

Aizen caught his attention first. Ichigo swiveled to look at him warily, body tensing automatically into a defensive posture. Then he saw the other man in the room, and his eyes widened. _"You!" _he spat as he recognized the man's pale skin and silvery white hair.

Gin stepped out from behind Aizen and grinned, flashing his trademark smile. "Hi there, Grimmjow's _friend_. It's a shame we never got you into that ring, you would have been a runaway favorite! I would have tried harder to convince you if I'd known who you were," he smirked. Ichigo clenched his fists but said nothing. The end was almost in sight - he couldn't afford to do anything rash, to ruin it all now.

Aizen waved his hand dismissively, as if he couldn't be less interested in the confrontation. "Yes, well. Shiro, meet Gin. You'll be working with him for your next mission. I sent him to infiltrate our competitor's organization more than two years ago, but he's been shunted off to run one of their branch operations." Gin ducked his head a little in chagrin. "Still, he's important enough to know where one of their central offices is. You will follow him inside, then split off and find their main database. I want you to take this - " he tossed Ichigo something resembling a flash drive "- and retrieve any file related to their three northeastern ports."

A shadow of doubt crossed Ichigo's mind, the first he'd ever had with regard to a mission. He didn't know how to hack a database - that was Ishida's thing. Ichigo just ran in and killed everyone after Ishida was done. "I - I'm not sure if I'm the best pick for this…" he faltered. The Shinigami head smiled.

"Are you refusing a mission? You have the right to, of course, but that will obviously be a breach of our agreement." The smile turned sinister. "Oh dear, and you were _so_ close to being finished!"

The thinly veiled threat immediately raised Ichigo's hackles. "No, I'll do it," he snapped. "Don't try and pull any cheap tricks, I'm _not_ going to just lie down and take it."

The Shinigami head feigned surprise. "Cheap tricks? I wouldn't dream of it. This mission is a crucial set up for the next stage of our operation. Oh, and your twelfth and final mission has already been decided. It will take place exactly two days from now, so do try to finish this one up quickly. Your freedom is beckoning," he said with a smirk.

Ichigo glared at him. "Just give me four hours, I need to get some sleep." He stomped around Aizen and Gin and sat down angrily on the bed, stiffly waiting for them to leave.

Aizen gave him another thin smile as he walked out. "Of course, Shiro."

* * *

D-Roy jumped up and started to walk over when he saw Grimmjow returning from the staff lounge, but hesitated when he noticed his boss's stormy expression. Grimmjow glared at him. "What?"

"Well, um. I got the information you wanted," the worker said nervously, holding the magazine cartridge in front of him like it was some talisman to ward off evil.

Grimmjow looked at him in genuine surprise, his irritation forgotten for a moment. "What, already? It's only been like, three hours." He hadn't really been expecting _any_ useful information, let alone a full report so quickly.

The blond relaxed, and flashed him a toothy smile. "Well, I would've told ya sooner, but you were sleeping. This here's from our own people, I'm sure of it." He flipped the magazine over to show Grimmjow a shiny mark on the bottom of the cartridge. "See that, the serial number's gone, right? Central just got a new machine in that blasts off the numbers, looks _exactly_ like that, all polished instead of scratched off. And you gotta know where to look for it, but - " he tilted his hand so the light shone on the magazine _just_ right - "the organization replaces that screw in the very corner with a silver colored one, instead of the standard metal. Most buyers don't notice the difference, but it helps us track down where our supplies end up."

Sure enough, when Grimmjow leaned in to inspect the cartridge he could see that one of the screws had a slightly different glint to the others. _These are ours? What does that mean, then…?_ he thought uneasily. Grimmjow knew the warehouse's distribution pattern by heart, and they definitely didn't make deliveries to the shop where Ichigo worked, he was sure of it. So how had Ichigo gotten ahold of these?

The phone on the wall rang, pulling him out of his troubled speculations. _That's the last fucking thing I need today_, Grimmjow thought foully to himself as he snatched up the ear piece.

"Warehouse 6," he grunted.

It was the same voice that had delivered the bad news last time. "Trouble. Warehouse 4 has been rendered unusable - all future shipments from that location will now be redirected to Warehouse 6. You will need to expand operation capacity by fifteen percent, starting at the end of this month."

The blunette dropped the phone and bellowed out an expletive as he punched the wall next to him. His fist broke straight through the thin plaster wall, and swirling clouds of dust puffed up around his arm. The nearby employees scattered, retreating to a safe distance from their infuriated boss.

He took several deep breaths, then picked the phone back up. "Fine. When are you sending their cargo over?"

There was no reply for a moment. "We will not be sending over any cargo from Warehouse 4. You are simply to expand operation capacity in anticipation of future shipments. Warehouse 4 has been shut down until further notice." He hung up without another word, just as abruptly as last time.

Grimmjow just stared at the phone in his hand for a moment before placing it back on its stand. _What the fuck is going on here?_ Warehouses 4, 5 and 6 comprised the three ports they had in this district. If those two had been targeted…then his was bound to be next. _I don't need this shit right now_, he grumbled again to himself. He pulled out another cigarette and jammed it into his mouth.

There was something wrong here, and Central wasn't telling him about it. Were they afraid that he'd refuse them if he knew? Well, he wouldn't. He never backed down from a challenge, and God knew he needed a distraction right now.

They needed to fortify the warehouse again, in light of recent events. Grimmjow was pretty confident in his hand-picked workers, but putting the place on higher alert couldn't hurt. He'd make everybody take on a few extra shifts, pay them double-overtime until he could find more people. Central probably wouldn't be too happy with the higher expenses, but as far as he was concerned they had no right to complain. Not with the way they'd been running things recently.

The other two locations might have gone down without much of a fight, but his wouldn't be. Warehouse 4 had been nothing more than a partially-abandoned shell after Ulquiorra had been executed. They'd reduced their shipments, and the replacement manager that Central sent had been new and inexperienced. And Warehouse 5…well, Nnoitra was Nnoitra. Not a bad guy, but he was far too reliant on brute force and physical strength, and less so on tactics or any actual strategy. Having big, dumb workers didn't help much if there was a sniper sitting on the roof. He wouldn't make the same mistakes that they had.

No, he was _Grimmjow motherfucking Jaegerjaquez_, and anyone trying to fuck with _his_ warehouse was getting a one-way ticket straight to hell.

* * *

**A/N:** **So after some more thought I'm going to be sticking with this story title, 'Expectations', since it seems like most of you guys actually prefer it. And I really do my best to listen, because you guys had some really good points and feedback and I like making you guys happy :)**

**Other thoughts:**

-The climax is almost here! I hope the set-up isn't too boring for you guys, I'm doing my best to make it interesting but still detailed enough to actually make the finale work :/

-Something bad is going to happen to one of the minor characters soon. Would you prefer it to be **D-Roy** or **Yammy**? Leave a note and let me know!

**-**To answer some questions in the reviews (I answered through PM already but in case anyone else was curious):

**Q: How many chapters left?** A: I don't think this will go above 20 chapters, but I'm planning to do a couple of one-shot/epilogue style chapters after the main plot has been wrapped up. That all depends on the kind of feedback I get for those, of course! If it seems like people don't really care for them then I probably won't do very many.

**Q: Does Aizen know about Grimmjow's job/whether Ichigo will see him at some point?** A: Well, I guess you'll find out soon! There are hints scattered throughout the story though, chapters 8 + 9 most specifically. I'm working real hard on making their next meeting/reunion as eventful/exciting as possible :)

**Please read and review!**


	15. Revelation

**Happy Grimmichi day (6/15)! Thanks to terrynow for letting me know :)**

**Longer chapter than usual in celebration, yay!**

* * *

Grimmjow watched in satisfaction as his employees milled about the warehouse executing every one of his commands, down to the letter. This was his kingdom, his castle; here, he was absolutely in control, the undisputed sovereign. Everything was black or white - loyal workers were good, narks and traitors were bad. Good people stayed. Bad people left - one way or the other. No shades of grey, no bullshit about sappy emotions or disturbing dreams here.

He looked on as a group of men finished reorganizing the crates into the locations he'd marked out. The new set-up left the crates much more compacted; it made loading up trucks a little bit more difficult, but drastically increased the floor space in the warehouse. If people tried to raid the place, this layout would be much more favorable toward his men. The workers here weren't exactly bad shots - far from it, but Grimmjow knew they weren't even close to being as accurate as the archer that had laid waste to Warehouse 5. Stacking up the crates left fewer places for an attacker to hide, which took away the primary advantage for a single sharpshooter running amok. Even a hyena could take down a lion, provided there were enough of them.

Grimmjow thought for a moment, then called over two of the workers from the group. "You two, you're sentries now. I want you on the roof, take turns walking around and watch for anyone approaching the building. There's a fire ladder that runs up one of the sides, use that. Grab a walkie-talkie and let me know the instant you see something," he said as he gestured towards a box of the radio devices. "Your shift ends in four hours, then come back down and get a replacement." The two men didn't look happy, but they kept their mouths shut. Everyone knew what Grimmjow thought of complainers.

The roof was an absolutely terrible design flaw in these buildings, and Grimmjow gone to great lengths to fix it. When he'd first taken over, there had been a huge glass skylight covering almost half of the ceiling. Perfect for surveillance, or sniping, or god knew what else. Three days in as the new boss and he'd gotten a slab of concrete paved over it. He'd also intended on paving over the various windows around the place, but everyone had thrown a fit about it until Grimmjow had finally relented. He didn't blame them - he wouldn't want to work in a concrete box all day, either.

Fifteen hours later and the place was practically a stronghold. Grimmjow had already stayed up through three shift changes, and he was ready to hit the sack. He made one final walk-through of the place, then trudged his way back to the annexed lounge. He'd never been fond of the empty, identical-looking bedrooms, but today he was almost wary of them. Still, he was too tired to be picky and he didn't want to leave, either. He pulled a blanket over himself and lay there in the darkness, waiting for what he hoped would be a deep and dreamless sleep.

* * *

Ichigo left his room after a four-hour nap, still feeling sullen and irritable. His sleep had been restless and light; he discovered that he'd grown too used to nestling up against Grimmjow's comforting warmth. But that wasn't a thought he particularly wanted to dwell on, so he turned his attention towards his current assignment.

It didn't take him long to realize that he'd been worried over nothing. He didn't actually need to _know_ anything about computers - he just had to find a Central employee who did. Then he could just coerce them into doing it for him.

He mulled the idea over in his head as Gin drove them towards their destination, icily refusing to make any eye contact or conversation. Gin was probably the reason Aizen had found out about Grimmjow in the first place, he thought sourly. His lie at the convenience store might have worked if Gin hadn't seen them acting all happy and affectionate at the fight club. Ichigo resisted the urge to slice the man's smile off his face. He was so close to being done, he couldn't screw it all up now.

Gin suddenly braked, and Ichigo's head smacked against the car's window. Ichigo snarled and shot a murderous glare at the silver-haired driver. Gin's smile wavered for an instant at the look on Ichigo's face, but it was soon back. "The building's up ahead, but you'll be getting out here." He leered at the look of confusion that flitted across Ichigo's face. "What? I've got to stay undercover, I can't just let you come waltzing in with me."

Ichigo looked at Gin resentfully as he got out of the car. Did they want him to shoot his way in or something? "Then what's the point of even having you here?" he asked.

"To give you these, I guess." Gin leaned out of the car and shoved a folder filled with blueprints at him. "This building's absolutely ancient, just riddled with security flaws. There's an air vent out back, I'm sure you can make it work." He stomped on the pedal, and the car roared off.

* * *

Grimmjow fell out of the bed with a muffled curse, head smashing against the headboard on his way down. Blinking rapidly as his eyes gradually adjusted to the dark, he reoriented himself to his surroundings and breathed a shallow sigh of relief. Then the agitation was back. Another dream, almost identical to the last. And he'd fallen for it again, let himself believe that everything was all right, that nothing had happened.

Then the dream had shattered into a nightmare, and all he had left was the image of Ichigo's dying expression burned into his memory.

He swore again, then practically fled the room. He needed to get out of this place, get some fresh air, get a change of scene. Maybe then the dreams would stop plaguing him. "I'll be back in an hour," he said to Yammy as he forced himself to slow to a walk. They didn't need to see him running around like a madman, not when tensions were high and everyone was nervous. But an hour couldn't hurt, right? Just long enough to clear his head. There'd been more than four months in between the two warehouse break-ins, he could afford to leave for a bit.

* * *

Air vents. _Air vents_. What was this, Mission Impossible? Ichigo was glad he wasn't claustrophobic because these ventilation shafts were a tight fit, especially with his bulky outfit and gear. He only managed to move by splaying his hands out in front of him and dragging himself slowly forwards. Then he got lost twice, because the building plans had gotten jumbled up and he'd looked at the wrong one. But he finally found his way into a vent that overlooked an empty room with several computers and what appeared to be a large server.

It was around four in the morning. He didn't expect too many people to be around, but he was confident would find _someone_ in this entire building. The warehouses had been running 24/7; the command and control centers surely had to have _someone_ present at all times. He punched out the grill covering the air vent, wincing at the clanging sound it made, then jumped lightly down to the floor. Pulling out a handgun he'd stolen from Warehouse 4, he cautiously made his way over to a computer and gave the mouse a shake.

The screen jumped to life, but on it was such a mess of code and script that he immediately gave up on figuring it out. Just as he was beginning to get worried that no one was around, he heard the sound of footsteps and dove for cover. Hidden haphazardly behind an open closet door, he peered through a crack and saw a short, timid-looking boy walk in and lock the door behind him. _Perfect_.

The poor kid scarcely had time to look at his computer before he felt the hard point of a gun jammed against his back.

"Don't move," Ichigo said menacingly behind him. The boy didn't budge a muscle. Ichigo quickly frisked him over once for weapons, relieved when he didn't find any. Just a computer techie, then. Much easier to convince. And the guy looked way too young to be working here. _Is Central hiring interns or something?_ he thought doubtfully.

He thought for a bit about how to approach the issue, then began. "Listen carefully. I am here to retrieve something from Central's database. If you cooperate with me, I will not harm you. If you play any tricks, I will shoot you. Then I will continue this routine with each and every one of your colleagues until one of them agrees. Sacrificing yourself will not prevent me from getting what I want, it will simply mean that you die. Do you understand?" The boy nodded rapidly.

Ichigo circled over to the front of the desk so he could see watch the monitor and the boy's face. The kid was a nervous wreck, although that was understandable. He looked like he was barely capable of accessing the computer database, much less triggering a silent alarm or planting any false information. "What's your name?" he asked suddenly.

The boy started, then stuttered out his name. "H-Hanatarou."

Ichigo sighed, and hoped he wouldn't have to shoot the boy. He'd do it if he had to, but he certainly wouldn't enjoy it. The fun was in the challenge, the thrill of the hunt - not killing a kid in cold blood. "Okay, Hanatarou. I want data on the distribution system your organization is using. Just give me info on the warehouses numbered 4, 5, and 6. Nothing more, all right?" He handed over Aizen's flash-drive looking device, and lowered the gun. The boy visibly relaxed, then nodded again.

"I'm warning you again, no tricks. I don't want to blow your head off, but I will if I have to." Ichigo gestured casually with his weapon. "See this gun? Hollow point bullets. Not great against a vest, but they're designed to explode when they hit you. Much more bloody. And lethal. Got that?" He immediately felt bad when he saw the boy's expression, but ignored it. There was no room for guilt here. "How long do you think it'll take?"

Hanatarou quivered. "Um, um. Maybe five or six minutes, Mr. Gunman, sir. I just have to overwrite the copy protection and transfer the files over." He squeaked when Ichigo suddenly leaned closer, examining the monitor.

The orangette pointed a finger at the screen. "Pull up the info you have on the raid at Warehouse 5. The one a couple of months ago," he commanded.

The techie looked at him with a mixture of surprise and fright. "H-h-how do you know about that?"

Ichigo shot him a look. "Does that _really_ matter right now? I just wanna take a look at one of the autopsy reports." He examined the file that Hanatarou pulled up, then nodded in satisfaction. "Okay, just checking you gave me the right stuff." He clicked quickly through a couple of the files, but didn't bother looking very closely. As long as he had _something_ to show Aizen, he didn't really care what he ended up with. Satisfied, he turned to look at Hanatarou. "We done here?"

The boy nodded, then handed over the drive. "Um…what are you doing to do with that information?"

Ichigo snorted. "Like I'd tell you. Well, nice doin' business with ya." He started to walk back towards the vent, then paused. "You're gonna be okay, right? They won't trace this back to you?" he couldn't stop himself from asking. Hanatarou was just a kid, he shouldn't be involved in this kind of thing…Ichigo turned to look back at the boy one last time before he left. To his surprise, the kid was glaring at him with a look of fierce determination, even if his lip did tremble a little.

"I - I've decided I can't let you take that. I triggered the alarm system, this place will be swarming with guards in just a few minutes," Hanatarou said defiantly. "K-k-kill me if you want, Mr. Gunman, but it w-won't turn off the alarm." He kept his head up, making eye contact all the while.

"Hah!" Ichigo grinned. This kid had some guts after all! "But you've already given me the flash drive, right? A little too late to be changing your mind," he teased. Hanatarou's look of defiance wavered. "You're a good kid, I'm not gonna kill you. Not part of the assignment. But listen up, all right? This place doesn't deserve your loyalty, you're too pure for this kind of work. I don't know how you got tricked into this job, but I'd suggest leaving as quickly as possible."

He shouldn't be wasting anymore time here. Ichigo walked rapidly over to the door, peering into the still empty hallway. "This security system's not all it's cracked up to be, is it?" he remarked with a wry smile. Hanatarou blanched. Ichigo paused one last time. "Gin, the one running your fight club. He's a nark, been leaking information for months. Do me a favor and report him for me, all right?"

Then he slipped out of the room as quickly and quietly as a shadow, as if no one had ever been there at all.

* * *

Grimmjow drove aimlessly around the city. It was calming, sitting in his own little bubble as the world whizzed by around him. He wound his way through a couple of suburbs, took his time coasting down dozens of narrow little streets and alleys, and finally found himself in a neighborhood he knew all too well. He hesitated for a moment, then pulled the car to a stop and slammed the door behind him as he crossed the street.

It was the podunk little shop that Ichigo worked at. Still open, even though it was past midnight. He yanked open the door, hating the stupid cheery jingle, and headed directly for the back of the store. His eyes strayed involuntarily towards the cashier's register, even though he knew he wouldn't find Ichigo there. A blond, middle-aged man was standing there instead.

"How can I help - " Urahara sang out in a cheerful voice before Grimmjow suddenly slammed down a magazine cartridge onto the counter between them. It was the one he'd found in Ichigo's apartment; he'd kept it with him, for some reason. "What is that?" the blond asked innocently.

Grimmjow glared. "Cut the crap, you know exactly what it is. Magazine cartridge for an AK-47. You sell these, right? Tell me where you got 'em." It was a useless question, with no real purpose. There was no way they were stealing it directly from his warehouse, so how they ended up with it was largely irrelevant. But he couldn't stop himself from asking, from trying to follow the only clue he had to go by.

Urahara looked at him with a bewildered expression. "Sorry, but we most _certainly_ do not. Never have, never will. We don't have a license for it," he finished.

"Don't give me that shit, Ichigo told me about the illegal stuff you guys sell out of the back. Just show it to me already, I'm not gonna call the cops," Grimmjow pressed on, undeterred.

At the mention of Ichigo, the shopkeep's eyes lit up and he smiled. "Ah, a friend of Kurosaki! That's right, I've seen you in here sometimes," he said warmly. "How is he doing, by the way?"

Grimmjow looked at him in disbelief. "You fucking kidding me? His apartment's a wreck, he hasn't been seen for two weeks, and you ask me _how the fuck he's doing?_ Has he been here?" If Ichigo had been working here all along, had been perfectly fine while he'd been going out of his fucking _mind_, he was going to kill somebody.

The blond stared back at him with wide eyes. "Oh dear, something's happened? No, he hasn't shown up here, not for a while now. About two weeks, now that you mention it."

"He doesn't show up for two weeks and you don't think something's _wrong_?" Grimmjow was practically shouting now, infuriated at the shopkeeper's apparent nonchalance.

Urahara shook his head emphatically. "He always used to do that, just go off without warning and leave me behind to fill his shifts. I figured this was the same thing. So inconsiderate, that boy," he sighed.

"He 'always' does that? He didn't when I was around. And how have you not _fired_ him for that?" Grimmjow said skeptically. It was true; Ichigo had never left for more than a week at a time, and he hadn't even been doing that for a while now. Grimmjow hadn't even considered the impact that random absences would have on a daily 9-5 job, but now that it had been brought up he was rapidly growing more suspicious.

"Well, I can't exactly fire him if I'm not paying him, can I?" Urahara pouted. "He's kind of just a volunteer, has been for a while now. He gets along well with the customers, so I just let him do whatever."

The blunette was incredulous. "You don't _pay_ him? How the fuck does he make a living, then?"

The shopkeeper shrugged. "I don't know, just assumed he had family money or something. He doesn't tell me very much, all right? Just showed up a few years ago, asked if he could work here. Said he didn't want any money for it, so of course I let him."

"Wha - he told me you were his uncle!" Grimmjow spluttered.

Urahara grinned at this. "How sweet of him! Well of course I am; all my employees are dear, dear children to me! But no, we're not related by blood, if that's what you're asking." He took a look at Grimmjow's expression and relented for a moment. "In all honesty, that boy's probably doing just fine. He's a tough one, I'm sure of it."

The reassurance didn't do much for Grimmjow. "Just tell me where you got the ammo from before I have to beat it out of you," he growled.

The man behind the counter threw his hands in the air with an exasperated sigh. "I'm telling you, we don't sell that sort of thing! I'm not dumb enough to do arms trafficking. We do counterfeits, grey market stuff, sometimes we fence a painting or something. But I don't have anything to do with _that_!" he said, pointing accusingly at the magazine.

Then he paused and cocked his head to the side for a moment, thinking. "Although…" Grimmjow crossed his arms, waiting impatiently. "I _do_ remember finding a big rifle of some kind under the counter a while back. Scared the crap out of me! Looked exactly like the ones those terrorists always use in the movies. Then it turned out it was Kurosaki's and he'd been keeping it there for years! I told him to take it home, or I'd throw it out. Haven't seen it since."

A bell suddenly chimed behind them, and Urahara plastered a grin back onto his face. "Well, it looks like we have a _real_ customer now, so if you don't mind, mister. Your scary face is going to scare all of them away!" He made a shooing motion at the blunette. "Tell Kurosaki he can come back anytime!" he called as Grimmjow turned and stalked out of the store.

Grimmjow got back into the car, but didn't turn on the engine. An increasingly intense sense of unease was sweeping up on him. Ichigo didn't work at the convenience store, didn't have any known family members, had owned a fully automatic rifle for _years_ that he apparently carried around with him. He disappeared regularly for weeks at a time, and had an undisclosed source of income that enabled him work for free. Everything Grimmjow had known - _thought_ he'd known - from the past six months had been wrong.

_Who the hell was he dealing with here?_

* * *

Ichigo was sitting in the passenger seat of a vehicle once again, trying not to feel too cheerful as Kuro drove them to their last destination. The last mission. Aizen hadn't looked pleased when he'd come back with the flash drive, but he'd grudgingly let him start his twelfth and final mission a day early.

He wasn't a fool - he didn't expect Aizen to simply let him go without a fight, even after their deal was up. But he still couldn't quash the tiny hope that had been sprouting up ever since they'd struck the bargain. It was irrational, and senseless, and broke every rule that he knew about Aizen. But that was the nature of hope; it still clung on, even after all else was gone.

If Aizen didn't let him go after this mission, he'd start from scratch. Find another operator, someone else who could cover their trail and evade detection. It wasn't an impossible task. He was faster, more skilled, and more prepared than he had been six years ago. He'd get away, even if it took another decade. The longer the better, really. He'd get Aizen off his guard, figure out a way to warn Grimmjow, maybe kidnap him and force him to come along. The blunette probably wouldn't be happy about it, but pissed off was better than dead. Ichigo felt another sting of pain when he thought about their last exchange. But what else could he have possibly done? He -

"Yo, Shiro! I've been _talking_ to you, are you even listening?" the driver on his left suddenly snarled.

Ichigo snapped out of his retrospection and turned to look at Kuro. He looked even more disgruntled than usual. "Sorry, what were you saying?" he said half-apologetically. He couldn't afford to be zoning out at such a critical time.

Kuro shot him a nasty glare. "Aizen _insisted_ I give you the background on this, so do me a fucking solid and _listen_, all right?"

The orangette bit back his own temper and nodded. Smacking his driver's head into the steering wheel at this moment would be counter-productive. Kuro glanced at him to make sure he was paying attention, then repeated his speech again.

"The boss has been competing for influence over this region for about a year, now. He left most of his force at our permanent headquarters in the South. With me so far?" He paused to look at Ichigo, who rolled his eyes and nodded. He'd figured that much out on his own.

"Well, this other group. They don't really have a name, we've just been calling them 'Central'. We started out infiltrating their control centers, but there's been limited success. We sent in Gin, but he was transferred away from anything important. And everything is very modular - their control centers don't actually function as much more than relay stations for information. Distribution is largely managed by individual managers at each warehouse, so we decided to target those instead.

Since Aizen's been short on agents, we've been sending them in undercover. We planted a mole in Warehouse 4, and he was initially very successful. We used his information to tip off the feds, who then raided one of Warehouse 4's largest deliveries. But that must have triggered someone's suspicion, because our informant was killed off only a few days afterwards.

Before he died, he faxed us an extensive list of names and delivery schedules for Warehouse 5. We believe he was in the middle of doing the same for Warehouse 4 when he was caught." Kuro finally stopped for a breath, then looked at Ichigo again. "You're still following this, right?"

"Yeah, I'm still following." Ichigo couldn't help but smirk when he heard that the mole he'd killed had belonged to Aizen. He suspected he knew what was coming next, but he still wanted to hear it said out loud. "So your inside man died, but you got all the information on Warehouse 5, right? What happened then?" he prompted.

Kuro's face tightened. "We're not sure. Only a few hours after we received the message, a contact at Central informed us that Warehouse 5 had been shut down until further notice. All shipments had been redirected to Warehouse 6, and every single person our informant had named was found dead. We suspect that it was an inside job - the organization panicked, and ordered the deaths of every single employee whose identity had been compromised. Harsh, but incredibly effective. We've been trying to gather information on the last remaining warehouse ever since then, but we haven't managed to get even a single person in under the radar."

"So that's where we're headed now?" Ichigo asked, and Kuro nodded in confirmation. Anticipation was building up in Ichigo's chest; this mission was a classic, the kind he loved best. No hacking, no blackmail, no bribery. There was only a single target - the person in charge of Warehouse 6.

He couldn't wait.

* * *

Grimmjow returned from his drive feeling almost as bad as when he'd left. He climbed up onto the roof to check up on the sentries, pleased to note that they were still alert and had been walking the perimeter of the roof.

Then he walked inside to find Yammy pacing around, looking glum. "What's wrong?" he asked apprehensively.

The giant turned at the question, immediately brightening upon seeing him. "Hey boss, glad you're back. The phone rang while you were out, so's I picked it up for ya. They told me there'd been a leak at one of the regional offices, someone's stolen information on our warehouse and distro schedule."

Grimmjow's mood blackened even further. "How recently were those updated?" he snapped.

Yammy grinned. "About a year ago, for ours. The tech guy picked the oldest ones he could find," he replied.

That was some good news, at least. If the leaked information was a year old, then it was practically worthless. They'd more than doubled their capacity since then, hired three times as many people, and drastically reworked their scheduling. Still, another phone call so soon after the last could only signal more bad things to come.

_Looks like I'm going to be here for a while_, he thought grimly.

* * *

This was going to be tougher than he'd thought, Ichigo decided after they'd taken a closer look at the warehouse. They'd spotted the sentries on top of the warehouse right away, and had taken up a higher vantage point on the top of a nearby building. And there was no roof entrance, either. The glass skylight had been paved over with concrete, eliminating the security breach he'd exploited before.

From what he could see through the lens of his sniper rifle, the place was absolutely swarming with people, each and every one of them armed and alert. This place was nothing like Warehouse 4, or even 5 - this place was ready for a war.

Kuro looked at him, appearing slightly unnerved by the eager smile that was tugging at Ichigo's lips. "So here's the plan. Those sentries on the roof are walking around in a pretty routine circle..."

"...and we could kill 'em if we wanted, but someone might hear the gunshot. So we'll have to avoid them entirely. But how?" Ichigo finished seamlessly.

The other executioner pointed at the southeast end of the building. "We'll go in through the windows, looks like there's one directly in front of a cargo crate," he said.

Ichigo frowned doubtfully. "That thing's at least thirty feet high..."

"And we'll have more than a minute each before a guard walks by. More than enough time," Kuro interrupted. There was a gutter that ran from the roof all the way down the ground, and a slight 5-inch ledge that they could walk along to get into the window. Nothing that two of Aizen's most well-trained agents couldn't handle. Ichigo reluctantly nodded in agreement.

Fifteen minutes later, they'd snuck their way inside, and were perched on top of a stack of large crates. The boxes were heavy and incredibly stable, enough so that they could sit up or even stand without fear of the pile toppling over. Ichigo did a double-check of his weapons - two nickle plated Colt M1911A1's (these babies were _beautiful_), an AK-47 assault rifle hanging on his shoulder, and an M25 sniper rifle slung across his back. A bit of an overkill, probably, but he felt safer with them on. And it wouldn't slow him down too much; he was used to running around with this kind of weight. Cataloguing the weapons helped him relax, focused his mind on the task at hand. "So what's the boss look like, did Aizen tell you?" he asked Kuro.

The agent gave him an odd smile that set Ichigo's teeth on edge, then replied. "He said you'll know when you see him."

The enigmatic answer did nothing to calm Ichigo's sudden bout of nerves. "What's that supposed to mean?" he snapped, turning his back to Kuro so he could survey the people milling about underneath them.

Then he saw a vivid flash of electric blue, and his heart stopped.

_Grimmjow_. He pieced together the situation immediately. Aizen had sent him to kill the very person he was trying so desperately to protect. This was what Grimmjow had always been so secretive of, where he'd run off to for days at a time. It was how he'd known Gin, how he'd gotten involved with the fight club - it was all run by the same organization, the organization that Aizen was trying to take down.

He cursed himself for being so blind, for not realizing sooner. _It's not too late_, a small, desperate voice insisted frantically. _Turn around, take out Kuro, run and - _

A gun pressed ominously into the back of his head. "Told you you'd know when you saw him," Kuro laughed cruelly. "Don't even try it," he warned when he saw Ichigo tense up. "You're faster than me. You're stronger than me. Hell, you're probably even smarter than me. But I _guaran-fucking-tee_ that I can pull this trigger faster than you can disarm me."

They both knew it was true. Their levels weren't so far off that Ichigo stood even half a chance if he tried to attack from this position.

Kuro spoke again. "You get it now, right? Aizen was never interested in a _deal_. You thought he would keep you around, give up his revenge just because you were _useful_? You were nothing but a disgrace to him, from the instant you fled six years ago." He grabbed Ichigo's shoulder, spun him around roughly so they were face to face. The gun was now leveled carefully at Ichigo's neck, ready to fire in a split second.

"You never thought it was _strange_ when Aizen told you that you'd killed twelve executioners? You never thought something was _off_ when he only brought two of us to the new headquarters, despite how badly this takeover has been going?" he was snarling now, grabbing at the front of Ichigo's shirt and giving him a hard shake.

"Ask me what you asked Midori! Ask me how Murasaki is, how Kiro's doing!" he hissed.

Ichigo knew where this was going, dreaded the reply, but he asked anyway. "H-how are they?" he whispered.

"_Dead!_ Every single one of them, dead! Fifteen of us, bonded through adversity and suffering and kinship, torn apart in an instant because of you! Aizen was _furious_, absolutely outraged when he found out. Called them all worthless, said they were trash for letting you go. He murdered every single person who helped you, executed everyone who failed to stop you, burned the bodies of the three you'd killed. Only Midori and I were spared, because we'd been gone for a mission and hadn't known. Only two of us, out of fifteen," he finished softly. He let out a halfhearted laugh. "He killed _nine_ of his best agents because they hadn't stopped you. He doesn't care about _utility_, he just wanted to punish you. You wounded his pride; did you ever think he would forget that?"

The words fell over Ichigo like a spell, lulling him into a horrified transfixion. He could only look mutely at the man before him.

Then the anger flared up in Kuro's eyes again, and he twisted the gun painfully against Ichigo's jugular. "Why did it have to be you? You _liked_ the missions, you _loved_ the killing, you were the only one who acted out of bloodlust and not fear. You were the best out of us all, already sitting on the throne, but even _that_ wasn't good enough for you. No, you had to go chasing after freedom, too. We all wanted to leave, but _you_ were the one who got to do it. And we never had a chance after that," he said, trailing off into a sigh as his eyes filled with a deep sadness.

The silence finally broke Ichigo from his trance as a wave of desperation and guilt washed over him. "I'm - I'm so, so sorry Kuro, I would never have done that if I'd known that he would - would - _never_, I would have stayed, would have made better plans, wouldn't have left _anyone_ behind. We can still run, if we leave right now he'll never catch us, I swear I - "

Kuro cut him off. "It's too late for apologies," he spat. "Aizen never forgave you, and neither will I." He released his grip and shoved Ichigo sharply backwards off the crate, sending him plummeting down towards the warehouse floor.

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****A/N:** What'd you think of the cliffhanger? ;)

Don't worry, won't leave you hanging for too long - working on the next chapter now. But reviews make me work harder and update faster (probably by a few days)! I love reading them, honestly I always feel a little sad when I see fewer than 5% of readers leave a comment, it makes me feel like the chapter needed work but then I don't know what went wrong because no one's saying anything! Sigh...

Anyways, hope the scenes with Hanatarou/Urahara weren't moving too slowly for you guys, it's all action from here on out!

Also, I've been doing so many searches on assault rifles and guns I'm sure I've been put on the NSA watchlist by now.

I have to confess, I think the name for the M1911A1 is _really_ awkward sounding, but the Cousins used it on the show Breaking Bad and they were effin' AWESOME, so there.


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